


Here I Stand

by lauawill



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 17:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 73,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lauawill/pseuds/lauawill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few months after their return to the Alpha Quadrant, the Voyager crew come together to assist one of their own. Along the way they face a new threat from an old enemy...make a new friend...and say goodbye to an old one. Adventure, humor, romance and fun. J/C, P/T, K/OC. Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

** Part 1 **

                The full moon, hanging low over the bay, was too bright.

                Maybe the champagne had gone to his head.

                Maybe the stifling air inside the ballroom, heavy with the scents of too many flowers and too many warm bodies, had overwhelmed his senses.

                Maybe the occasion, the joyous wedding of two old friends-turned-lovers, had hit just a little too close to home.

                Maybe the quick succession of all three, like a rapid-fire jab and uppercut combination, had simply sent him reeling.

                Chakotay leaned against the balcony’s stonework and stared out over the water.

                Maybe it was that dress.

                That silky-soft, shimmering, silvery dress that bared more glowing, freckled skin than he’d seen since…

                He sighed.

                It was definitely the dress.

                He was always conscious of her when she entered a room, but that dress… It sent him into a state of hyperawareness that he couldn’t shake off.

                He’d thought Kathryn was off-planet on Starfleet business and wouldn’t make the wedding of Tal Celes and Billy Telfer. So when she’d strolled into the chapel on the arm of yet another slim, slight, fiftysomething man…wearing that dress…he’d had to hold himself very still indeed to keep from outwardly reacting.

                Inside, though... Inside, he’d fought down a sudden combination of mixed surprise, panic and raw desire. The young woman at his side had looked up at him with concern. “Chakotay?” she’d whispered. “Are you all right?”

                He’d forced himself to smile for her. “There’s someone here I didn’t expect to see,” he replied. “I’ll be fine in a minute.” He leaned down and kissed her jet-black hair to distract himself from the sensations churning inside him. When he looked up again, he’d caught familiar blue eyes on him, stormy with some emotion he couldn’t quite identify.

                The wedding ceremony was a blur.

                He drummed his fingers against the stone and tried to remember any of it, anything all. The vows were lost to him, but he could picture with perfect detail the way Kathryn glanced at him when Seven began to sing during the ceremony. The wrap had slipped from her shoulders. The balding man had reached back and pulled it up again, tucking it around her, his bony fingers brushing against her pale, smooth skin.

                Chakotay had to avert his eyes and collect himself before he could face the front of the chapel again.

                It was the first time he’d seen her in a month. It wasn’t that he’d been avoiding her, exactly. They’d crossed paths now and then, but he spent most of his time holed up at the Academy or his isolated house in Big Sur. She was away from her San Francisco office almost as much as she was there, and when she was on the Starfleet grounds she was just as busy and sequestered as he. Aside from a few _Voyager_ gatherings, he’d barely seen her in the nine months since their final post-Delta Quadrant debriefings.

                He missed her. He missed their working lunches and casual dinners, missed their long, rambling conversations, missed the way she made him laugh in spite of himself. He even missed their arguments, as venomous as they could sometimes be.

                Tonight, more than anything, he missed the tantalizing feel of her body, small and strong, next to his.

                She seemed to harbor no such longings. She’d turned up at their crew’s various social functions with a succession of similar-looking older men, differentiated only by their professions: A doctor, a well-known novelist, a politician. Chakotay didn’t recognize tonight’s companion, but he was sure to find out eventually – if not from her directly, from Tom and B’Elanna, who seemed to always know who she was with and how long they’d been dating.

_Dating._

                Chakotay scowled up at the moon.

                Maybe it was the dress…and the _dating_.

                The footsteps behind him scattered his thoughts, which weren’t bringing him any peace anyway. Chakotay straightened, patted down his civilian tie and coat and shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. A small bronze hand looped through the crook of his elbow. “So this is where you disappeared to.” The young woman’s voice was warm with amusement and affection.

                He glanced down at her. The full moon glowed against her dark, silky hair. “Sorry. I needed some air.”

                “That’s all right.” She winked at him. “It gave me a chance to talk to Harry again.”

                Chakotay smiled. “He’s a good man.”

                “Do you think so?”

                He wrapped his arm around her. “Yes. He’s smart and insightful and passionate about his friends.”

                “That’s what B’Elanna said, too.”

                “Is it?”

                The young woman nodded. “Although she didn’t use those exact words. She said Harry thinks too much and falls in love too easily.”

                Chakotay gave soft chuckle. “And then I imagine Tom said something about always falling for the wrong women.”

                She drew back and looked up at him. “How did you know?”

                “You live with people for seven years, you get to know them very well.”

                She rested her head on his shoulder. “I like your friends, Chakotay.”

                “I’m glad.”

                They were quiet for a moment, both gazing out over the water. The muffled music and laughter from the ballroom wove around them both. “You seem distracted,” she said softly.

                “Do I?”

                “Yes.” She paused. “It’s her, isn’t it?”

                He said nothing.

                “Have you talked to her tonight?” she asked.

                “Not yet.” He knew he’d have to eventually, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He had too much to say, and this happy occasion was surely not the time or the place to say it.  “Did you introduce yourself to her?”

                “No. She seemed very busy with her date.”

                He couldn’t stop the little growl that issued from the back of his throat. She pinched his arm. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Chakotay.”

                “You’ll get used to it,” he said, just as the French doors behind them opened again, emitting a loud burst of brassy music from the ballroom, and after it, a trio of voices Chakotay would recognize anywhere.

                “The man’s a tribble,” B’Elanna groused. “Small and squeaky and irritating.”

                “Just like the rest of them were,” Paris agreed.

                “Come on, he’s not so bad,” Harry said. “And he seems to really care for the Admiral.”

                B’Elanna swore under her breath. “Yeah, but does _she_ really care for _him_? Because there’s no heat there. Not the way there used to be with--”

                “B’Ela,” Tom warned.

                Chakotay closed his eyes briefly in a pointless effort to center himself before he faced them. “Tom, Harry,” he acknowledged. “B’Elanna.”

                They all nodded at him. Harry shuffled his feet, eyes on the young woman wrapped in Chakotay’s arm. “We wondered where you went.”

                “It’s a little too crowded in there for me. I just came out for some fresh air,” Chakotay said, forcing a smile. “Kayma followed me. Why don’t you all go back in and--”

                The doors opened again, followed by the same cacophony of music and laughter. Two figures emerged from the ballroom, arm-in-arm. Chakotay let out a long, slow breath and turned away, eyes closed against the moon’s bright reflection on the water.

                Admiral Janeway spotted them and smiled widely. “Here you all are,” she called. She pulled her date toward them. “Everyone remembers Richard, I hope?”

                Tom, B’Elanna and Harry all nodded greetings at the older man, who had wide-set green eyes and a trim, white goatee. His formal suit was elegant and impeccable. They made a handsome pair. Chakotay cleared his throat. “Actually, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

                Janeway glanced up at him. “No, I don’t suppose you have. Chakotay, this is my friend Richard Thorpe. Richard, my former First Officer, Commander Chakotay.”

                The older man’s hand felt small and oddly damp in his own. “Nice to meet you,” Chakotay murmured, with as much sincerity as he could muster. He resisted the urge to wipe his hand on his pants.

                Richard quirked a snow-white eyebrow at him. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Commander,” he said. B’Elanna was right. The man’s voice was, in fact, rather reedy. “It’s nice to finally put a face with the name.”

                Chakotay inclined his head, but said nothing more. Kathryn took the older man’s arm again and eyed the woman at Chakotay’s side. “You haven’t introduced me to your lovely companion, Commander. Tom tells me she’s been living with you for more than a month.”

                Chakotay paused. He wondered what Kathryn was thinking – and exactly how much Tom had told her. “You remember my cousin Tohopa?”

                Kathryn’s eyes widened. “Yes, of course. I met her at the welcome home party.”

                Chakotay nodded. “This is her daughter Kayma.”

                “Her daughter…” Kathryn breathed, and blinked.

                Suppressing his amusement, Chakotay leaned toward Kathryn. “Kayma is my cousin, Admiral. And yes, she’s been living with me while she works on her doctoral thesis.”

                The Admiral smiled, but Chakotay could see that it was forced. He’d surprised her. The realization brought him a strange little thrill of satisfaction.

                “I see,” Kathryn said, her head cocked to one side, appraising Kayma. “You’ve met Tom and B’Elanna and Harry, I take it?”

                Kayma nodded. “And I just met Seven of Nine.” She peered up at Chakotay. “You really dated her?”

                He shrugged. “I really did.”

_“Why?”_

                Tom coughed. Harry blushed. Even Richard, who had probably also just met Seven tonight, gave a startled little gasp. But Chakotay’s eyes remained on Kathryn. In the months since their return to the Alpha Quadrant, no one, not even Kathryn, had asked him that question. They’d all studiously ignored the affair, such as it was, both while it was happening and after it was over. Chakotay couldn’t decide which hurt worse: That no one bothered to question him at the beginning or cared to sympathize with him at the end. The whole thing had left him feeling very confused and embarrassed.  “Because she asked,” he admitted. “Just because she asked.”

                Kathryn looked at him with such shock, he wondered if that particular reason had never occurred to her. Tom and Harry both seemed surprised, too, and B’Elanna, her eyes troubled, reached out and touched his hand. Maybe that reason had never occurred to _any_ of them. Maybe they all just assumed he’d initiated the ill-fated relationship with Seven. It would explain a lot.

                In the uncomfortable silence, Chakotay watched Kathryn gather herself, just as she’d done hundreds of times on _Voyager_ when faced with something completely foreign to her. For an awful moment he thought she’d question him further about Seven in front of his friends and Kayma. But then she gave him a crooked smile, nodded once and simply changed the subject.  She turned to Kayma. “What’s your field, if I may ask?”

                Chakotay exhaled slowly. Beside him, Kayma smiled. “Neurology, particularly pre- and neonatal neurology. I don’t know if you’re aware, but many of the males in our family have a hereditary neurological defect.”

                Tom, Harry, B’Elanna and Kathryn all chuckled in recognition. Chakotay leaned down to whisper in Kayma’s ear. “They know, Kayma. Go on.”

                “Oh.” She glanced up at him uncertainly and continued. “Most of them have it corrected before birth with gene therapy. Both of my younger brothers did. That’s how I got interested in the field. But I’m looking for a better method of handling it, one that addresses the symptoms while keeping their hypersensitivity intact, but without altering the genome.”

                Kathryn nodded. “Interesting. And you’re here doing research?”

                “At UC-Berkeley.”

                “I’d like to hear your theories sometime. I’m sure our Doctor would, too.”

                Kayma grinned. “I’d love to get your feedback. Chakotay tells me you trained first as a Science Officer before you switched to Command.”

                “That’s right. My degrees are all in the physical sciences, but,” she gave Chakotay a sidelong glance, “I have a particular connection to your field of interest. Call my office and have my aide set something up for us.”

                “I’ll do that, Admiral.”

                Janeway patted her arm. “Call me Kathryn, please.”

                They all stood and talked for a time. Chakotay let Kathryn’s familiar and intoxicating voice roll over him, paying very little attention to the words. He tried not to notice the way the moonlight danced on her shoulders and gleamed in her hair, or the way Richard kept a possessive hand on her at all times.

                A chilly September breeze blew up off the bay, billowing the women’s dresses, fluttering the men’s ties. Richard ducked inside to fetch Kathryn’s wrap and Chakotay’s former shipmates, as if by prearranged signal, leapt into sudden action. Harry invited Kayma to dance and offered her his arm. Tom and B’Elanna followed them back to the ballroom, leaving Kathryn and Chakotay alone. When Tom turned around and winked at him, Chakotay nearly groaned out loud.

                “I think we’ve been maneuvered,” he muttered.

                “I’m sure of it.” Kathryn leaned against the stonework beside him. “It was a lovely wedding. I’m happy for Celes and Billy.”

                Unable to recall a single detail of the ceremony beyond Richard’s hand on Kathryn’s skin, Chakotay hummed a noncommittal response. “I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought you were still on Vulcan.”

                “I got back early yesterday.” She looked up at him with clear blue eyes that took his breath away. “It’s good to see you, Chakotay. How long has it been?”

                He was tempted to rattle off the weeks, days and hours, Tuvok-style. “A month,” he said. “You look well.”

                “I am, thank you. How have you been?”

                “Fine. Busy.” He took a deep breath. “When did you meet Richard?”

                “Reg Barclay introduced us in July. He’s one of the private contractors who worked on the Pathfinder project.”

                Chakotay raised an appreciative eyebrow. “I bet those patents made him a credit or two.”

                She gave him a wary look, but let the remark pass. “Your cousin is delightful. She’s living with you?”

                “For at least this semester. She might stay into the spring.” He smiled fondly. “It’s nice to have someone to come home to.”

                “I’m sure it is.”

                The bay breeze lifted her hair and blew a hint of her perfume to him. He closed his eyes and bent to catch it all before it wafted away. She wrapped her arms around herself and gave a little chuckle. “I almost made a fool of myself a minute ago.”

                He glanced down at her, eyes fastened on the thin, strong line of her collarbone, alabaster white in the bright moonlight. “How so?”

                “I was going to make a comment about your dates getting younger every time I see you.”

                The remark stung. He shoved his hands back in his pockets. “That’s fitting, Kathryn, since yours keep getting older.”

                She cringed. “Touché.”

                “You know,” he said slowly, “I’ve dated only two women since we got back: Seven and a woman my sister pointed at me.” He heard the slight defensiveness in his own voice and decided not to temper it. “Neither relationship lasted more than six weeks. Yes, they were both under thirty-five. They were also both enormous mistakes.”

                Her hand on his arm was warm, even through his suit coat. “I’m sorry, Chakotay. That was unfair and uncalled for. And who you date is none of my business.”

                He nodded, but who he dated had been her business for years, whether she wanted to acknowledge it or not. “I’m sorry, too,” he said. He squinted again at the too-bright moon, disappointed that seven years of intense and complicated friendship had culminated in this stiff conversation.

                “How are you, Chakotay? Really?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I never see you around HQ or the campus. You spend all your off-hours down in Big Sur.”

                He finally turned to face her fully. “It’s taking me a little longer to find my feet,” he said.

                “But I thought you loved teaching.”

                “I do. I’m very fulfilled, professionally.”

                She placed her hand on his chest, right over his heart. He almost gasped at the sudden heat. “But personally?”

                He gave her a tight smile. “I’ll get there,” he said. “I just need more time.”

                She grasped the lapel of his coat, her fingertips leaving hot little sparks everywhere they touched. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

                He took a chance and covered her hand with his own. Her skin was soft against his rougher palm. “Kathryn, I--”

                “Kathryn?” Richard darted out of the ballroom, Kathryn’s wrap in hand. Deflated, Chakotay moved away from her. The older man draped the wrap over Kathryn’s thin, bare shoulders and steered her back into the ballroom. When Richard reached for the door, she turned back and raised her hand in a small, subtle wave. Chakotay smiled for her and watched her go, her arm tucked into the crook of Richard’s elbow.

                Funny. He could remember with absolute clarity the feel of her hand on his arm in exactly the same way, the press of her fingers against his flesh as they walked through diplomatic functions, down alien streets, through Holodeck parties.

                Just before they disappeared from Chakotay’s sight, Richard leaned down and kissed her cheek, then looked back with a self-satisfied smirk that made Chakotay want to drive every trace of the mousy man’s presence from every corner of her mind and every centimeter of her body.

                Chakotay ground his teeth and turned back to the water and the moon.

                The too-bright moon.

                It had to be the dress.

-END Part 1-


	2. Chapter 2

** Part 2 **

                The car was an extravagance.

                He’d resisted the whole idea at first. He had ready access to Starfleet transporters and shuttlecraft, so there was really no good reason to own a personal groundcar. But then B’Elanna had reminded him that Big Sur residents treasured their isolation, and the nearest transporter station to the house he planned to live in was almost 50 kilometers away in Monterey.

                Harry had pointed out that the station at Monterey was not automated and tended to be unmanned after 2200 hours, and if he didn’t want to bother Starfleet for a site-to-site every time he stayed late at the office, he needed a reliable way to get to and from campus.

                Tom had waxed poetic about the Old Cabrillo Highway up the coast from Big Sur to Monterey and on to San Jose, some 200 kilometers of empty road winding its way along the Pacific Ocean, sometimes diving down among the rocks and waves, sometimes climbing to the clifftops hundreds of meters above.

                They’d dragged him to buy the car.

                He was ready to settle on a simple, reliable two-seat hovercar with just enough power to get him from Big Sur to San Francisco in a little over an hour and on one charge, when Tom Paris had spied The Falcon.

                It was a vintage model from 2329 – the year he was born, B’Elanna noted with a smirk – and one of the last luxury machines off the Land Rover line. It was sophisticated and black and so far out of his comfort zone it made his head spin.

                The four of them had stared at it for many long minutes while the Ferengi salesman stood by, rocking back and forth on his heels.          

                “This is the one,” Tom said.

                Chakotay shook his head. “It’s too…showy.”

                “But powerful,” B’Elanna countered. “In hover mode it’ll get you to San Francisco in just under an hour, and you’ll be able to make the round trip on one charge.”

                “It’s too big,” he said.

                “But when your sister and her family come to visit, you’ll be able to take all of them wherever they want to go in one trip,” Harry replied. “And even in ground mode it’ll eat up the rough terrain from the highway back to your house.”

                “It’s too expensive,” he said.

                “But worth it,” Tom purred, his eyes gleaming. “So, so worth it. If ever there was a good use for seven years of back pay, this is it.”

                Chakotay peered at their eager young faces. “You all just want to drive it.”

                Tom had practically exploded. “Damn straight, we do! Look at her! Just….just _look_ at her!” He waved at the car. “Look at that classic Rover design, that strong frame, those sleek lines. They don’t make them like this anymore, Chakotay. Think of it, just you and her, gliding along the Cabrillo Highway…” The pilot bounced on his toes. “Maybe _I’ll_ buy her.”

                B’Elanna poked her husband in the ribs. “Not a chance, Flyboy.”

                The Ferengi salesman slithered between him and the car. “Would the gentleman like to see her with the top down?”

                Tom groaned. “Yes. The gentleman most definitely would.”

                The Ferengi salesman touched a control and the car’s top slid away, revealing a gray and blood-red interior with deep, plush seats, carved wooden accents and gleaming silver controls. Chakotay’s fingers itched to touch everything he saw. The Ferengi smiled. “Would the gentleman care to take her for a spin?”

                They’d all climbed in, the Ferengi wedged in the backseat between Harry and B’Elanna, and rolled off the San Jose lot in ground mode. By the time they returned, B’Elanna was gushing about the purr of the vintage engine, Harry was filling out a loan application, and Tom was in tears.

                Chakotay brought the car to a halt and rested his hands on the steering controls. The hyper-responsive, butter-soft steering controls. “I don’t know,” he said.

                B’Elanna growled. Harry cringed. Tom buried his face in his hands.

                The Ferengi poked his oversized head between the front seats. “Would the gentleman like to consult his lady friend?”

                Chakotay frowned. “There’s no lady friend,” he said.

                The Ferengi’s wicked leer showed off a mouthful of polished, pointy teeth. “There soon will be, sir. I guarantee it.”

                Chakotay had a sudden vision of racing The Falcon down the Old Cabrillo Highway with a certain Admiral in the passenger seat, her beautiful hair flying behind her, one slim, pale hand resting on his thigh.

                He bought the car.

                Within a week, everyone affiliated with the Academy knew that Professor Chakotay was driving a mint-condition 2329 Falcon to campus every day. He’d never been one to covet material possessions, and yet he now owned the most ostentatious machine the Academy had seen in decades, maybe since a certain Cadet Kirk had turned up with a contraband racing cycle. More than once, Chakotay regretted the extra attention the purchase had brought him.

                Tonight, for example. The wedding party had finally dispersed at midnight. Chakotay and Kayma had walked to the transport station to see the happy couple off on their honeymoon, then lingered with Tom, B’Elanna and Harry until it was the trio’s turn to beam out. By the time they made their way back to the parking lot, it was nearly 0100 and a heavy fog was rolling in off the bay.

                When he saw the shadow hovering near his car, Chakotay bit off a curse. Kayma followed his gaze and chuckled. “Oh, look. You get to show off the Midlife Crisis Mobile again.”

                “Watch your tongue, _chitsa_ ,” he grumbled, the endearment softening the warning.

                “Or you’ll send me back to Ohio?”

                “I might.” He kept his eye fixed on the shadowy figure, barely visible through the fog. “I thought everyone had gone home by now.”

                “I’m sure he doesn’t mean any harm.”

                “It’s still awfully late to be hanging around another man’s car.”

                She elbowed him playfully. “Another man’s vintage, cost-me-a-fortune, I-love-it-more-than-life-itself car.”

                “It’s just a car.”

                “You wipe the fingerprints off the controls every time you park it.”

                “It requires a little extra…maintenance.”

                Kayma laughed. “Sometimes you talk to it.”

                Chakotay ducked his head to hide his grin. “Has anyone ever told you just how irritating your forthrightness is, Kayma?”

                She shrugged. “I’m a neurologist, not a psychiatrist. We don’t sugarcoat.”

                “You certainly don’t.” They took a half-dozen more steps through the parking lot, and Chakotay frowned. “He’s still there.”

                They both peered into the darkness. “Someone you recognize?”

                “I don’t think so. Stay close to me.”

                He circled around to approach the stranger from behind, hoping to take him by surprise. When he was almost close enough to touch the man’s shoulder, Chakotay cleared his throat. The man started and whirled around, colliding bodily with them both. Chakotay steadied Kayma with one hand and pushed the stranger away from him with the other, instinctively moving into a defensive stance. “Excuse me, friend,” he said in a low voice, “but you’re blocking the door.”

                The man righted himself. He was at least half a head shorter than Chakotay, barely taller than Kayma. In the foggy darkness, Chakotay could make out little more than glittering black eyes and a receding hairline. He wasn’t even sure of the man’s species, beyond humanoid. “Quite a machine,” the man said, and something edgy and dark in his voice sent a shiver down Chakotay’s spine.

                “Thank you,” Chakotay said with a nod. “Now if you’ll stand aside, please.” He reached into his pocket for the starter.

                “It’s a 2331 Falcon, isn’t it?”

                “Actually, it’s a 2329.” He pulled Kayma behind him when she started to reach for the passenger door.

                “Oh, of course. Now I see the distinctive grillework.” The man finally stepped away from the car. “Have a pleasant drive, sir. Madam.” He withdrew into the shadows and disappeared into the fog.

                Chakotay stood rooted to the spot, frowning. Kayma grasped his sleeve. “Chakotay?”

                He gave his head a little shake and opened the door for her. “There was something odd about that man.”

                “Other than the fact that he was drooling all over your car at one o’clock in the morning?” She folded herself into the passenger seat.

                “Other than that, I guess not,” Chakotay said, and closed the door behind her.

                He tossed his coat into the backseat, slid behind the controls and activated the car in hover mode. Soon they were headed southeast through the city lights, along the Crystal Springs Reservoir and into the hills. As always, The Falcon responded instantly to his each and every touch. It thrilled him more than he cared to admit.

                Near San Jose, he turned due south through the mountains. When the ocean came into view at Santa Cruz, he pulled over and turned to Kayma. “Mind if I put the top down?”

                She clucked her tongue at him. “You’re so predictable.” She reached into the backseat for his coat as the top rolled away.

                He chuckled and restarted the car in ground mode. “’Midlife Crisis Mobile,’ huh?”

                Kayma patted his knee. “I’m afraid you are a walking, talking cliché, Chakotay. All you need is an insipid blonde girlfriend.”

                His hands tightened on the steering controls.

                Kayma snapped her fingers. “Oh, right, you had one of those.”

                “Seven’s not insipid.”

                “If you say so.”

                Chakotay shook his head. “That’s it. You’re going back to Tohopa in the morning.”

                Kayma shrugged. “Fine. You know she’ll just send Abeke and Neka to keep an eye on you in my place.”

                “I thought she sent you to work on your doctoral thesis.”

                “She _let_ you think that.” She tilted the seat back and pulled his coat tighter around her. “So you can take your chances with me or with my brothers. Your choice.”

                Chakotay sighed. “Life was so much easier in the Delta Quadrant.”

                “I’m sure it was,” she said, and yawned. “You didn’t have to decide what to do with your feelings for Kathryn.”

                He grimaced. “Kayma, I don’t--”

                “Deny it now if you must, but I’m not blind and I’m not stupid. When you’re ready to talk about it, you’ll know where to find me.”

                He rolled his eyes. “And I suppose you’ll tell it like it is, no sugarcoating?”

                “None whatsoever.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her toy with the buttons of his coat. When she looked up at him again, he saw only the shy, awkward child he’d known long ago, when he was a young officer and she was his little cousin in Ohio. “Would you mind if I went out with Harry?”

                He winked at her. “I’d love it if you went out with Harry.”

                “Good.” She yawned again and closed her eyes.

                Chakotay stepped on the accelerator.

                This last leg of the trip, the 110k from Santa Cruz along the Monterey Bay and on to Big Sur, was his favorite part of the drive. The Cabrillo Highway wound through the mountains to the Monterey Peninsula and then hugged the coastline the rest of the way home. The sea breeze rushed up off the water and filled his lungs with clean, salty air. The car, as flamboyant as it was, had helped him regain his sense of place on Earth. Just beaming from city to city made it too easy to forget how beautiful and diverse the planet really was, too easy to ignore his own surroundings. On his morning route from Big Sur to San Francisco, the ocean views gave way to forested mountains, rolling hills, and finally, the city. The peaceful drive deposited him at his office focused and ready to face his Cadets.

                The drive home, from city to hills to mountains to ocean, often with The Falcon’s top rolled down, blew away the cares of his days. Along the way he took note of cacti and redwoods and rabbits and coyotes. Before The Falcon, Chakotay would never have considered driving to be meditative, but in a way, it was. He nearly always arrived at home calm and centered.

                Tonight, though, he couldn’t quite let go of the heightened sensory awareness Kathryn’s sudden presence had stirred in him. Jaw clenched and eyes averted from the bright-white glare of the moon on the ocean, Chakotay steered The Falcon along the coastline until the exit to his house appeared and he turned inland.

                The rustic, single-story cottage, almost 10k from its nearest neighbor, was perched on a cliff some 300 meters above the water and surrounded on three sides by ancient redwoods and oaks. The Falcon glided gently down the long lane through the woods. True to Harry’s assurances, she was meant for this rough terrain. Chakotay patted the dashboard. “Nicely done, old girl,” he whispered, mostly for Kayma’s amusement. She snorted.

                When he finally pulled up behind the house, Kayma yawned and stretched and wriggled out of the car. He followed her across the porch and into the house, ordering the lights to fifty percent. He loosened his tie and puttered around the tidy little kitchen. “Tea?”

                “Too tired.” She draped his coat over the back of his favorite chair by the fireplace. “Thank you for letting me tag along. I had a wonderful time.”

                “You need to get out more.”

                “So do you.” She kicked off her high heels and curled her toes against the colorful wool rug near the fire. “We’ll talk about Kathryn?”

                “Later.” He abandoned the teapot in favor of a single glass and a decanter of very old Scotch, both housewarming gifts from the Doc.

                “You really don’t mind if I date Harry?”

                He poured himself a drink and hitched his hip against the marble countertop. “I really don’t.”

                She bit her lip. “You won’t tell Mom?”

                Chakotay put the glass down. “Kayma, I know Tohopa would prefer you to stay within the tribe.” Kayma nodded miserably. “Sekaya feels the same way about me. But I don’t necessarily share that opinion.”

                She grinned. “Obviously.”

                “Obviously,” he acknowledged. “I think it’s far more important to listen to your heart. If your heart wants you to spend more time with Harry Kim, then I’ll support you any way I can. I won’t talk to Tohopa about it until and unless you want me to.”

                She nodded once, her dark eyes very bright. “Thank you, Chakotay.” She padded off toward her room, her bare feet quiet on the pine floor, but turned back suddenly. “And if your heart wants you to spend more time with Kathryn Janeway?”

                He shook a finger at her. “I said ‘later,’ Kayma. Go to bed. And next time you report back to Tohopa, you be sure to tell her I got out tonight.”

                She threw him a look of purest innocence. “Who says I report back to Mom?”

                “Your comm logs.”

                Her laugh was a warm, welcome sound in his long-empty house. “Pancakes for breakfast?”

                “It’s Sunday, isn’t it? Sleep well, _chitsa_.”

                She darted back to kiss him on the cheek. “You’re a good man, Chakotay. Goodnight.”

                As soon as she closed her door, he took up the glass and the decanter, strolled out to the deck and sprawled across a lounge chair. The moon was still bright against the ocean, but the dazzling stars, as always, drew his gaze upward and his thoughts to the woman who had been the center of his Universe for almost eight years.

                 She’d looked so beautiful, and so content on the arm of another man.

                And yet… She’d offered to help him find his feet again. Some small part of him grasped at the knowledge that he was on her mind. He’d made some horrible mistakes in his life, but perhaps none he regretted more than letting his friendship with Kathryn falter. It was past time to rectify that. Richard’s presence in her life was a complication, but they’d survived the Borg and Species 8472 and the Kazon – and  Kashyk and and Jaffen and Riley and Seven – with their friendship mostly intact. It would be difficult to see her with another man, but if Richard made her happy, Chakotay would learn to accept it.

                He finished his drink and poured himself another. The night sounds of the forest wrapped around him – the skittering of small animals, the hoot of an owl, the bay of a lone coyote, and far below, the crash of waves. After a while, the moon didn’t seem quite so bright, and although the sea breeze that lifted his tie and ruffled his hair was chilly, he felt a welcome little flame in the middle of his chest.

                When the second drink was gone, he wandered back into the quiet house…but only after he wiped down The Falcon’s steering controls.

                She was definitely an extravagance.

                He fully intended to take good care of her.

-END Part 2-


	3. Chapter 3

** Part 3 **

                They looked good together.

                Tom had spent most of the night watching Billy and Celes on the dance floor, staring into each other’s eyes. They’d looked so happy and so right together as they swayed to the swanky music. While still in the Delta Quadrant, Tal Celes had developed an affinity for ancient Big Band music, much to Tom’s delight, and the wedding reception’s holographic combo had spent the early part of the evening reeling off the classics: “Moonlight Serenade,” “In the Mood,” “Body and Soul,” “Take the ‘A’ Train.”

                Later a smoky-voiced singer in a vintage tux had taken the stage for an even better set. Tom had found himself humming along with the opening notes of “I’ve Got the World on a String,” a wide, happy smile on his face. Surrounded by his closest friends, his beautiful wife cuddled to his side, Tom certainly felt as though all was right with his personal Universe.

                He was still in high spirits hours later, strolling hand-in-hand with B’Elanna through the foggy streets just south of Golden Gate Park, past their neighborhood’s shops and townhouses, through the playground with the toddler swings that made Miral squeal with delight. _Got the string around my finger_ , he hummed to himself, and smiled.

                B’Elanna glanced up at him. “Did you say something?”

                “Hmmm? Nope. Just humming. Thinking about the wedding.” He squeezed her hand. “It was nice.”

                She nodded but said nothing. A little worried, Tom glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She’d been too quiet since they’d left the reception with Chakotay and Kayma and Harry. Her face didn’t betray much emotion, but even that was a possible sign that something was on her mind, something troubling that she felt she couldn’t fix on her own. B’Elanna was a dive-in-and-take-charge kind of woman. No matter what the problem was, if she knew she could fix it she would, usually with enthusiasm and a fair amount of swearing. When B’Elanna got quiet and thoughtful…that was the time to really be concerned.

                He wondered if something about the wedding was bothering her. “They looked happy together,” he offered.

                “What does she see in that guy?” B’Elanna suddenly snarled.

                Startled, Tom leapt to his shipmates’ defense. “He’s a good guy, B’Elanna. You just never really got to know him. He’s a little…neurotic sometimes, but deep down he’s--”

                His wife jabbed him in the side with her sharp little elbow. “Not Billy. _Richard_.”

                “Oh.” Tom rubbed his bruised ribs. “Him.” So that’s what was bothering her.

                “I don’t get it,” B’Elanna continued. “The last couple guys were boring enough, but that guy. _That_ guy.” She made a sharp chopping motion with her free hand. “He’s the worst of the bunch.”

                Tom tried to think of the man objectively. Aside from the nasally voice and the smug displays of wealth, Tom had to admit there wasn’t anything too inherently offensive about Richard. True, he was a good ten years older than the Admiral and couldn’t be more than 15 centimeters or so taller, but he was built like a marathoner. Fit and agile for a guy in his late fifties. The hair was thinning…or nearly gone, really…but the goatee offset it a bit.

                “He’s not horrible to look at.” He tilted his head to one side. “If you squint, I suppose he kind of looks like Picard.”

                B’Elanna flailed an elbow at him again. He managed to dodge it this time. “I’m not talking about the way he looks,” she grumbled. “I’m talking about _him_. Why him? Why all the famous guys?”

                “Thorpe’s not that famous.”

                “But Councilman Deegan was, and so was that writer.”

                “Tenson. John Tenson. I guess he was, wasn’t he?” Always on the lookout for Holonovel pointers, Tom had been privately rooting for that one to last a while longer than the usual four weeks.

                “So why all the famous guys?” They arrived at the stoop in front of their townhouse.

                Tom shrugged. “Maybe because she’s pretty famous, too. She’s not intimidated and she’s not looking for the spotlight herself. And they’re not as intimidated by her.” He grinned. “They probably should be, but they’re not.”

                B’Elanna paused in the pool of misty light cast by the streetlamp. The damp fog folded around them both. “All right, then, why all the older guys?”

                Tom turned and sat down on their front steps. He sensed that B’Elanna wanted to talk about this and knew it would be easier to do so before they sent the babysitter home. “Because they’re safe,” he said.

                B’Elanna stood looking down at him. “Safe,” she echoed with disbelief. “What do you mean, ‘safe’?”

                “They’re already in the public eye, so they’re not going to do anything stupid or unexpected.” He chuckled. “And we both know that vast personal wealth or not, Richard’s no match for her. She could eat him for lunch if she wanted to. The whole relationship is on her terms, not his. So it’s safe. _He’s_ safe.”

                B’Elanna snorted and flopped down next to him. “I can’t believe ‘safe’ is what she really wants.”

                “Maybe ‘safe’ is what she needs after everything she’s been through.” He glanced at his wife. Unspoken between them was the knowledge that “everything” included the Borg, the Hirogen, Species 8472, Kashyk and dozens of other crises and enemies that didn’t even bear thinking about anymore…and her First Officer and best friend’s ill-timed affair with the young woman she had all but adopted.

                An affair that Chakotay had not initiated, much to his friends’ surprise.

                Tom wondered if B’Elanna’s anger was as much about Chakotay as it was about Janeway and Richard. Perhaps Chakotay’s confession had somehow reawakened B’Elanna’s fierce protectiveness. She’d always talked of Chakotay as part of her family, almost a father figure. She’d stayed silent during his relationship with Seven, neither condemning it nor approving it—but at the time they’d all assumed that he’d started it himself, for reasons none of them could even guess at.

                In any case, it appeared to be an attempt at establishing a loving, committed relationship, something that Tom and B’Elanna had managed in spite of all the Delta Quadrant’s odds against them. Neither of them wanted to stand in Chakotay and Seven’s way if they had a shot at real happiness, no matter how strange the connection seemed to be. After it was over, neither of them had ever mentioned it again. They simply didn’t know what to say.

                It could be that B’Elanna was angry at the Admiral now on Chakotay’s behalf. The notion that he’d been in love with Janeway for years was something of a given among most of the _Voyager_ crew, as was the tragic truth that while they were traveling through the Delta Quadrant, nothing could ever come of it. Now that they were home and there was no duty, no command structure and no impossible mission between them, now that they were free to explore a new kind of relationship, Chakotay was alone again. But Janeway… Janeway had moved on.

                Chakotay probably thought he’d either missed his chance or had never had one in the first place. The man must be miserable, Tom realized, and because Chakotay was miserable, B’Elanna was miserable, too.

                Tom was suddenly ashamed that he’d let so much time pass without asking Chakotay about what had happened with the former drone. Between _Voyager_ ’s occasional social functions and their positions at the Academy, he’d had plenty of opportunity. He’d just never quite found the right words. Or maybe he’d never looked very hard. As time passed, it just got easier to stay away from the topic altogether. But if _he_ felt bad about avoiding that conversation, Tom couldn’t imagine how terrible B’Elanna must feel.

                He slipped an arm around her shoulders. “We should’ve talked to Chakotay,” Tom said.

                B’Elanna leaned against him. “I know.”

                “We still could.”

                “Maybe. But he might not want to.”

                Their former Commander was a proud man, and a private one. He’d probably prefer to just put the whole thing behind him, no matter how much his old friends wanted to draw him out. Tom planted a kiss on the top of his wife’s head. “He’s probably embarrassed.”

                She grabbed his hand and looked up with him with an earnest expression. “But he shouldn’t be. There’s nothing wrong with what they did. We didn’t know when we were going to get home. He was lonely, and she’s…well, she’s…” She growled and flapped her hands in frustration. “Oh, you know.”

                He chuckled. “Yeah. I know.”

                She slipped off her shoes. “He’s probably got bruises from kicking himself in the ass.”

                “He does have lousy timing.” Tom sighed. “So does the Admiral, I guess.”

                “But did you see the way he looked at her?” B’Elanna grinned. “He looked like a hungry _targ_.”

                “I bet Richard never looks at her like that.”

                B’Elanna shuddered. “Don’t even put that image in my head.”

                “Sorry.” Tom rubbed his chin. “That _was_ a hell of a dress she was wearing.”

                B’Elanna’s elbow connected with his ribs again, and Tom laughed.

                He’d seen the Admiral in a dress like that one other time. It wasn’t a sight he was likely to forget.

 

                Starfleet uniforms were never intended to be anything other than functional and utilitarian. They were shapeless, sexless things that turned everybody into a talking head – Janeway more than most, since she was a talker to begin with. Sure, some women could make the look work. B'Elanna was one, thank the gods. But for the most part it was damn hard to be sexy in a uniform. The men fared a little better. The broader the shoulders, the better the look. Maybe that's why Janeway had never been able to keep her paws off Chakotay's shoulders, come to think of it.

                Either way, the uniforms made it easy to forget that there was a person under there somewhere, if you could get past the zippers and the pips. So in the Delta Quadrant, any chance to get out of uniform was welcome because it allowed them to see each other on a much more basic level.

                That’s why they’d dreamed up the luau.

                It was really just a flimsy excuse to get people out of their quarters and their uniforms for a few hours. Tom had helped Neelix program the clothing choices into the replicators: Colorful Hawaiian shirts, sarongs, dresses... They were beyond merely “ugly.” Some of them were truly headache inducing. At least they would all be tasteless together.

                But Tom was pretty sure everyone in the room had done a double-take when Janeway walked into the luau in that little strapless number. It only took one look at Chakotay's face to realize that things could get very basic indeed if someone wasn't careful.

                Tom had followed them around the luau that night at a discreet distance. She kept pulling the Commander by the arm from table to table. A couple times Tom caught Chakotay covering her hand in the crook of his elbow with his own hand... But that was all.

                And Tom began to wonder... _How is he doing this? How is he not touching her?_ This went on for an hour, this game of lead and follow that they were playing. Chakotay's hands never strayed. Even his expression didn't waver much. But whenever Janeway looked away, Chakotay's hungry eyes locked onto her bare shoulders. Tom just kept wondering. _How is he keeping his hands off all that skin?_

                And in the end, he hadn't kept his hands off her. Not all night.

                As the party was breaking up Tom had glanced back to find them standing at the water's edge watching the holographic moonrise. They weren't touching; they were just standing side by side, like they often did on the Bridge while talking to alien dignitaries. She reached up and adjusted the lei around her neck. She must have said something about it being uncomfortable, because Chakotay had eased the lei up and over her head. Then he moved her long hair to the side and brushed his fingertips in a soft, soothing gesture across the irritated skin he'd exposed. Her shoulders tensed at his touch...but then she relaxed, her head falling to one side as he caressed her skin. His hand finally stilled on the back of her neck, his body bowed toward hers, her head tilted toward him. They'd stood there for a long time, not moving, barely breathing, while Tom watched.

                A minute passed. Two. Three.

                Then Chakotay's big hand began a slow slide across her shoulders again, down the length of her arm, back up. He pressed his open palm against her bare back and then moved it lower. When his fingers dipped below the back of her dress, she'd turned to him suddenly. They'd stared at each other, frozen, until she gave a little shake of her head and drew back from him. When she tried to retrieve her lei from him he resisted until she finally gave it up, frowned at him and fled the Holodeck. She left him standing alone on the beach, the lei dangling from his fingers.

                Tom had never seen the man quite so forlorn. He’d seen that same quiet sadness in him tonight when the Admiral had introduced Richard…and that same hopeless, helpless _want_.

                “He loves her,” Tom said softly. “He always has. Hasn’t he?”

                B’Elanna nodded against him. “I think he tried to forget.”

                “But it didn’t work.”

                “No.” She drew back to look at him. “Do you think she loves him?”

                He sighed. “I don’t know.”

                “Tom…” she said in a low, careful voice. “If she’s been seeing these other men because she thinks they’re safe… Is it possible she’s holding him off because she thinks he’s _not_ safe?”

                Tom shrugged. “He _isn’t_ safe. Not for her.”

                “What do you mean?”

                Tom stared off into the fog for a long moment. “I’ve been around career Starfleet types my whole life.”

                “So has she.”

                Tom nodded. “I’ve seen officers like my Dad and like Admiral Janeway—Edward Janeway—try to maintain relationships and families and still have their careers. Sometimes people like that…their professional lives get so consuming that they have to hold something back.” _From their families_ , he thought, but set it aside.

                “You think Janeway’s like that?”

                “No, I think she’s _not_. Not at all. She can handle anything life heaves at her, and she never does anything halfway. I wonder if she _wants_ to throw herself into a relationship, but thinks she shouldn’t. And the men she’s been seeing—older, famous men—aren’t asking her to, because they’re holding something back from her, too.”

                B’Elanna tilted her head to one side. “But Chakotay won’t hold anything back. He loves with his whole heart.”

                “Exactly.” Tom drew her into his embrace again. "Richard is safe. Chakotay isn’t. But maybe  ‘safe’ is what she needs while she figures things out.”

                B’Elanna closed her eyes. “I hope she figures it out soon. For both of their sakes.”

                They sat in silence for a while, the fog wrapping them in quiet, soft darkness. Tom couldn’t help but wonder what it might take to bring their former commanding officers together. He recalled the many times Janeway was almost sick with worry when Chakotay was hurt or ill, the way the Commander fussed over her when she pushed herself too hard. Every time, no matter how close they had seemed to become, one of them had pulled back from the brink of something deeper. For seven years, they were both consummate professionals, setting aside anything they might have wanted for themselves.

                It was way past time for them both to grab at life with both hands, just like he and B’Elanna had. He leaned over and kissed her luscious lips. Through the townhouse’s open window, he heard Miral giggle in her sleep.

                _I’ve got the world on a string_ , he thought, his forehead pressed to his wife’s.

                “We should go in,” he said.

                 “You walk Frannie to the transport hub and I’ll pour us some wine.”

                He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and stroked her soft cheek. “Everyone should have this,” he said.

                She nodded again. “ _They_ should have this.”

                “They will. Somehow, they will.” He kissed her again…and smiled against her lips. “You know what’s funny?” he asked.

                She snuggled into his arms. “What?”

                “That in spite of the fact that we’ve been colleagues with them under the most extreme conditions imaginable, they’re both respected officers with prosperous careers, and they’re two of the most professionally successful people we know… we’re obsessing over their _love lives_.”

                B’Elanna snickered. “You gotta have priorities, Flyboy.”

                As they rose, arms wrapped around each other, and headed into the townhouse, a thin man emerged from the fog. He watched them wander inside and close the door behind them. Then he turned and strolled on along the dark street, a thoughtful expression in his glittering black eyes.

-END Part 3-


	4. Chapter 4

** Part 4 **

                Richard smelled like fish.

                She’d noticed it after the second date. When he walked her back to her townhouse and leaned in for a kiss, Kathryn detected a slight fishy smell. But they’d just eaten dinner at an exclusive seafood restaurant on Fisherman’s Wharf. Of course he smelled like fish. She probably did, too. So she kissed him.

                It was…unremarkable. And fishy. But there was definitely room for improvement, and he _was_ rather charming, so she agreed, with her characteristic optimism, to a third date.

                The next time the subtle fishy odor hit her nose, she dismissed it as confirmation bias. He’d smelled of fish the first time they kissed, so she’d been expecting it and would likely have perceived it whether it was really there or not. The scent wasn’t overpowering, just…there. The kissing had improved, that much was certain. And he _was_ handsome in a primped and polished sort of way. She agreed to a fourth date.

                More kissing. More fishiness. But he _was_ damn sexy in his tailored Italian suits. She agreed to a fifth date.

                Unfortunately, a diplomatic emergency forced her to postpone. Fortunately, this gave her time to prepare for the fishiness before their next date. 

                Or so she thought. The day after her return from Paris, they went out for an extravagant dinner – succulent Kobe steaks served with roasted vegetables and very expensive wine and no seafood whatsoever – and drinks and dancing. When the holographic band slowed to a sultry jazz tune and he pulled her close to his body to show her just how much he’d missed her, the smell of fish tickled at her nose.

                At this point, the scientist in Kathryn took over. Why did he smell like fish? What was he ingesting or inhaling or smoking that caused it? Or was it just a unique byproduct of his body chemistry? Was he even aware of it? Were others? After she took him to meet her family, she called her sister Phoebe. They chatted about Richard’s looks and charm and slight discomfort with Phoebe’s children. “But what did you think of that cologne he was wearing?” Kathryn asked.

                Phoebe’s eyebrows knit together. “Was he wearing cologne?”

                When he took her to his mansion in Cupertino, she half expected to find a giant koi pond or a tank of exotic sea creatures. Nothing. Not even a goldfish bowl.

                In the absence of a tricorder, she snooped. In his bathroom she found no ingestible or topical medications that would explain it. The soap in his shower had no scent at all — and he had very little use for shampoo, so she didn’t even check. The cologne on his nightstand was rare and expensive and Deltan...but it did not smell of fish.

                His sheets, however, did.

                Hers did, too, the morning after Celes and Billy’s wedding.

                In fact, she felt rather fishy herself when she woke up pressed against a clammy, clingy, ropy body and wanted nothing more than to extricate herself and make a cup of coffee.

                She felt even fishier four days later when she broke her dinner date with Richard and set out across the Academy grounds to find Chakotay.

                She told herself it was for Kayma. Earlier that day she had run the data and her own logs from _Voyager_ ’s encounter with Chaotic Space off onto a padd, thinking Kayma might be interested in it for her thesis. She wanted to pull the Doc’s medical logs, too, but as the patient in question, only Chakotay could give permission to release the information. She called his office. His teaching assistant said he was gone, but she could probably find him at the Boothby Memorial Gym working out with the Academy boxing team.

                Kathryn grinned. Of course. How appropriate, given his hallucinations while in that otherspace. She grabbed the padd, sent a polite, perfunctory and vague message to Richard’s secretary, and left her office at a fast walk. Kayma would surely want the data for her thesis. Kayma _needed_ the data for her thesis. Kathryn had to find Chakotay immediately.

                The gym was dim and dusty and smelled of old leather. She heard him before she saw him, encouraging his charges to keep their hands up, move their feet, use their heads as much as their fists. She smiled at that, wondering if as a young man he’d ever gotten the same advice.

                Fit and strong and dressed in the boxing kit she remembered from _Voyager_ , including the gloves, he bounced among three matches in three different rings, offering instruction and demonstrating techniques. She counted among the athletes two human boys, a very young, very slim Vulcan boy, a burly Bajoran who was surely a fourth-year Cadet, a tall Klingon girl and a Betazed girl. They were paired off roughly by size in the three rings. Kathryn kept to the shadows, not wanting to break anyone’s concentration. The Vulcan boy and Betazed girl seemed wary and tentative with each other, and no wonder.  It was an odd paring for anything. The two human boys were going at it with vigor, fists flying. The Klingon and the Bajoran, though, were shouting at each other more than anything – taunts, threats, curses. Chakotay warned them more than once, and finally climbed into the ring to step between them just as a bell rang ending the round.

                The Bajoran spat out his mouthpiece and whirled on Chakotay. “This isn’t going to work, sir. We have a match with UCLA next week, and I don’t have anybody decent to spar with. I won’t be ready!”

                In an instant, the Klingon woman lunged at him. “’Decent?’” she growled. “You’re soft, Granor. Like a Denebian slime devil.”

                Chakotay pushed them apart. “Both of you calm down,” he ordered.

                “But sir,” Granor protested, “I don’t want to go down there and get embarrassed because I didn’t have a good training partner!”

                The Klingon twitched a shoulder at him. “You’d get embarrassed whether you trained with me or a Nausicaan. You’re weak.”

                Granor, the big Bajoran, rounded on her, but Chakotay pushed him back again. “Stand down, Cadets!” he thundered. “You’re teammates first, remember?” Both young people backed off. Granor still looked angry and the Klingon woman looked smug, but they both seemed chagrined.

                The Klingon woman ducked her head at Chakotay in a slight bow of respect. “Apologies, sir.”

                “Accepted,” Chakotay nodded. “Now to your teammate, Cadet.”

                The Klingon woman gritted her teeth and turned to the Bajoran. “I’m sorry, Granor,” she ground out. “You will fight honorably at UCLA.”

                Kathryn saw Chakotay suppress his smile at that. “Thank you, Cadet,” he said. “Have a seat.” The Klingon woman climbed out of the ring and sat down on a bench nearby. In fact, Kathryn noticed that all the other Cadets had gathered at the side of the ring where Chakotay and Granor now stood facing each other. The young people were chatting amiably, trying hard to look like they weren’t interested in what was going on inside the ring.

                Kathryn’s gaze flicked back to Chakotay and Granor. Her former First Officer had one gloved hand on the younger man’s shoulder, talking to him in low tones. Granor listened quietly, then shook his head in protest at something Chakotay said. Kathryn watched familiar expressions of persuasion, challenge and then determination cross Chakotay’s face. He made one last sharp comment, the Bajoran nodded quickly, and Chakotay retreated to the far corner of the ring, yanking his shirt over his head.

                Kathryn gasped. He was going to spar the Bajoran. Her first thought was to stop this madness. Chakotay was fit enough for a man of his age, but the Bajoran was bigger, burlier, and at least twenty-five years younger. There was no way to stop the fight without embarrassing one or both of them, though, and she didn’t want to undercut Chakotay’s authority with his Cadets. So Kathryn stayed hidden in the shadows, her breath frozen in her throat.

                When the two men stepped together in the center of the ring, the other Cadets quieted instantly. Kathryn realized this was what they’d been waiting for. She wondered if Chakotay had had difficulty with Granor before. Perhaps this was an old dispute coming to a head at last.

                Chakotay and Granor circled each other warily for several seconds before Granor finally unleashed a barrage of jabs that Chakotay dodged. When they turned as one and Kathryn got a good look at Granor’s face, she relaxed a little. The man was furious – maybe not at Chakotay, but definitely at the Klingon Cadet – and not thinking straight. True to character and the instincts she’d trusted for seven years, her former First Officer had maneuvered the younger man into expressing his temper without hurting a fellow Cadet in his carelessness. Chakotay wasn’t quite as strong as the Klingon girl, but he was quicker and more skilled, able to dodge the man’s increasingly angry and uncontrolled punches.

                Most of them, anyway. Chakotay gave as good as he got at first, but Granor managed to land a few crunching blows that knocked Chakotay back on his heels. Grunting, he stepped up to the Bajoran each time, gloves raised to protect himself, and let Granor release his irritation.

                The rest of the Cadets stayed quiet, watching them. When Granor flailed at Chakotay’s head, missed and shouted a loud curse, the young Vulcan raised an eyebrow. The two Human boys elbowed each other. The Betazed girl winced, and the Klingon smirked.

                The fight went on for a minute, then two, Granor’s apparent frustration increasing with every second. Chakotay kept dodging and ducking, but Kathryn could see that he was beginning to tire – and the Bajoran had abandoned all technique, making it difficult for Chakotay to anticipate where the next blow might be coming from. Kathryn winced with the dull thud of every punch to Chakotay’s body. When Granor connected with a right jab to the gut that made Chakotay double over and followed it with an uppercut to the jaw that sent him reeling into the ropes, blood and sweat flying, Kathryn darted forward into the light.

                The Vulcan saw her first. “Admiral on deck!” he cried, and the rest of the Cadets, including Granor, snapped to attention.

                Draped over the ropes, blood dripping from his nose and oozing from a cut below his right eye, Chakotay gave her a lopsided grin. “Admiral Janeway,” he said, his words distorted by the mouthpiece. “What a nice surprise.”

                 “At ease,” Kathryn said. The Cadets all moved to parade rest. “Commander, you’re bleeding.”

                “I’m sure I am,” he said, winking at her. He removed his mouthpiece and tossed it aside. “Cadets dismissed,” he ordered, and began to extricate himself from the ropes, calling after Granor.

                The younger man turned, his face set in tense, angry lines. “Commander?”

                “My office, tomorrow at 0900.”

                Granor’s face fell. “Aye, Commander.”

                “Dismissed.”

                The Bajoran nodded once and turned to leave the gym. Kathryn noticed the Klingon woman lingering nearby. When Granor passed her, she fell into step beside him and the teasing and taunting resumed as they walked away.

                Behind her, Chakotay chuckled. “Remind you of anyone?”

                Kathryn looked again and watched them retreat, the Bajoran’s fair hair matted to his head, the Klingon talking rapidly, punctuating every point with a stab of her boxing gloves. The Admiral turned and smiled at Chakotay, who stepped up beside her in his old familiar place. “Now that you mention it, yes.”

                They shared a quiet laugh. Chakotay wiped blood from his face with a towel clutched awkwardly in his boxing glove. “What brings you here, Admiral? I assume it wasn’t just to watch me get my ass handed to me.”

                “No, that was just good timing.”

                He put a gloved fist over his heart. “Ouch.”

                She took the towel from him and continued to clean his wounds. “What were you thinking, anyway?”

                He shrugged and leaned into her touch. “I recruited Z’Mora right after the beginning of the semester so I wouldn’t have to spar Granor anymore. Within a month he was refusing to give her his best, no matter how much she egged him on.”

                “It’s interesting how that works out sometimes.”

                He nodded.  “So it’s back to me again. I try not to do it too often, because when I do…” He shrugged again.

                She examined the cut on his cheek. “That looks like it hurts.”

                “Not as much as you’d think.” He rummaged in a gym bag and handed her a dermal regenerator. “Fix it for me?”

                She took his face in one hand and passed the device over the open wound. “You’re sure this doesn’t hurt?”

                He smiled under her ministrations. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, if you promise not to tell B’Elanna and Tom.”

                She let go of his face and raised her hand. “You have my word.”

                “I was pretty sure I’d wind up in the ring with Granor today, so I dosed myself up on analgesics before practice.”

                Kathryn’s eyes widened. “You don’t even like to take them _after_ you’re hurt.”

                He chuckled. “But I’m not as young as I used to be.”

                She touched the fading cut, ran her fingers over his crooked nose and placed her hands on his shoulders, holding his gaze. “You look just fine to me, Commander.”

                He swallowed hard. Kathryn fought not to sway further toward him, unsure whether the little thrill that rippled through her was for his reaction or hers.  “Tell me, Kathryn,” he said softly. “What brings you here today?”

                Ignoring both the new spark of old attraction and her own confusion over it, she let him go and retrieved the padd she’d set aside. “I downloaded the data from our encounter with Chaotic Space. I thought Kayma might like to use it for her thesis.”

                He smiled and nodded. “I think she’d love that. But you could have just transferred it to my office.”

                “No, I couldn’t. I can’t release some of the medical data without your permission.”

                “Of course.” He moved to take the padd from her, but his boxing gloves prevented him from pressing his thumb to it. He shook his head at himself and began to fumble with the ties of his right glove.

                “Here, let me.” Kathryn sat down on the bench and pulled him with her until his hands rested in her lap. She worked at the knots and soon her fingertips were almost raw from the friction of the rough, tight laces. “How do you do this on your own?”

                “With my teeth and a lot of swearing.”

                She clucked her tongue at him. “Why laces instead of pressure strips?”

                “The laces stay tighter. And they’re more…traditional.”

                “A Starfleet Commander who prefers traditional laces on his boxing gloves.” She pulled his right glove off and began to work on the left. “Always such a contrary.”

                He offered no reply to that. She felt his eyes on her, moving over her hair and face, resting on her hands as they worked on his. When she had both gloves off and began to pick at the tape he wore beneath them, he passed her a small pair of scissors. Gently, mindful of his bruised knuckles, she cut and peeled away the long layers and set them aside to retrieve the padd. “There you go.”

                Their eyes met again over the padd. Kathryn held her breath. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d been this close, or the last time she’d touched him this much. His skin was warm under her fingertips. The air sizzled around them.

                He lowered the padd. “Why don’t you bring this to Big Sur?” he asked.

                Kathryn blinked. “What – now? Tonight?” she breathed.

                He smiled. “No, Kayma’s in Berkeley tonight monitoring some lab work. But you could come down on Saturday and deliver it in person. The three of us could talk it over together.”

                She hesitated. “I don’t know…”

                Dropping his eyes, Chakotay looked away. “You probably have plans.”

                “Not really,” she said quickly. “Nothing I couldn’t change.”

                He nodded once. “Or you could…bring Richard.” He licked his lips. “I’d like to get to know him better anyway.”

                Kathryn studied his profile, noting the tension in his strong jaw and bare, broad back. “Why?”

                He forced a tight smile. “I think I should probably befriend the man who’s captured the great Kathryn Janeway’s heart.”

                She chuckled and thumped her shoulder against his. “You may be overstating the case on several counts.”

                The leap of hope in his eyes was impossible to miss. “Really?”

                She nodded. “I think I might be trying to talk myself into something that isn’t really there.”

                “But you seemed very happy with him at the wedding.”

                She waved a hand in a vague, dismissive gesture. “I think it was just the occasion,” she said. “Maybe the music or the champagne just…got to me.” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “I’m sure that doesn’t sound very rational.”

                He gave his head an amused little shake. “I understand completely, Kathryn. Sometimes circumstances can make things seem more significant than they really are.” He turned away and let out a long, slow breath before he tapped the padd on his thigh and looked back at her again. “Saturday? You could beam into Monterey and I’ll pick you up there. Or pull rank and take a Starfleet groundcar out for the day. The drive down the coast is beautiful.”

                She hesitated. “Are you sure?”

                “Of course. You’re the only one of my friends who hasn’t visited yet, Kathryn. Even Tuvok and T’Pel came for tea.”

                “I know. He told me all about it.” The Vulcan had practically gushed about the tranquility of Chakotay’s isolated cottage overlooking the Pacific Ocean. In truth, Kathryn had very much wanted to visit Chakotay’s home, although the tension and distance between them had left her unsure whether she’d be welcome there.

                That tension, however, seemed to be melting away the longer she sat next to him.

                “Kayma and I won’t be doing anything,” Chakotay continued. “Usually on Saturdays I just grade reports and projects and she does research. It would be nice to have a visitor.” When she continued to hesitate, he grinned and lowered his voice. “Be there at 1700 and I’ll make you an early dinner. When was the last time you had a home-cooked meal, Kathryn?”

                “Home-cooked?” She fought to keep the pleading tone out of her voice.

                He chuckled. “Anything you want, and all from scratch, since I don’t even have a replicator.”

                “Anything?”

                “Anything. How about…vegetable stew and homemade bread?”

                “Pecan pie?”

                “Fresh from the oven.”

                That did it. She felt a flutter of anticipation in her belly, for both the food and the company. “Five o’clock on Saturday, then. It’s a date.”

                His easy, delighted smile touched off a warmth in her that she hadn’t felt in years. “I look forward to it.” He returned the padd to her. “And don’t be late for dinner, Admiral.”

                “I wouldn’t dream of it, Commander.” She rose and patted his shoulder. “No more sparring with angry Bajorans?”

                “Not unless you’re here to patch me up, I promise. See you Saturday.”

                She gave his shoulder one last, lingering touch and left the gym.

                Her steps felt light and quick on the short walk back to her office. She’d missed him. She realized it with a rush of deep affection and warmth. She’d missed that smile, those mischievous brown eyes, those broad, solid shoulders.

                An hour later, seated in her apartment with a hot cup of cinnamon tea in hand, she realized she’d even missed his scent, warm and rich and heady, without the faintest hint of fish.

=/\=

                The soft glow from the townhouse’s front window cast a warm light on the sidewalk below. The man was careful to keep to the shadows while he watched the house. The scanner in his hands swept the house over and over, waiting for the telltale signs of a security system being armed. When the Admiral rose, casting a shadow across the pool of light, the man looked up, hopeful for a glimpse of her. He stepped into the light.

                He didn’t see the couple strolling along the sidewalk until they were upon him, tangling him in their loosely clasped hands. At the sudden physical contact he gasped and lurched away from them, from the overwhelming mix of emotions they projected on him:  Surprise, irritation, embarrassment, lust. He waved off their muttered apologies, clutching his head, as the scanner clattered to the pavement.

                When he retrieved it, he scrolled through the information and realized that in his clumsiness, he’d deactivated the scan. The Admiral’s security system was armed, but he hadn’t captured the code.

                He slammed the scanner on his open palm, cursed and hurried away from the house, his black eyes glittering with anger and frustration.

-END Part 4-


	5. Chapter 5

** Part 5 **

                Harry wasn’t at all certain this was a good idea.

                He clenched his hands around the edges of his seat as the Admiral took another curve at high speed, throwing him against the groundcar’s door with a thud. He glanced over at her with concern, wondering if she could actually see over the dashboard or if she was driving entirely by instrument and feel. A straight stretch of highway appeared before them and she jammed her foot on the accelerator, slamming Harry backwards in his seat.

                No, he wasn’t certain this was a good idea at all. On many, many levels.

                When she’d contacted him and asked if he would join her for dinner with Chakotay in Big Sur, Harry had hesitated. Then she assured him Kayma would be there, too. Harry had stammered and blushed…and agreed to accompany her.

                He got his first inkling that it might be a bad idea when the Admiral had mentioned that she was looking forward to spending some time with the Commander away from Starfleet Headquarters. Like many of his shipmates, Harry had often wondered what might happen to Commander Chakotay and Captain – now Admiral – Janeway upon their return to the Alpha Quadrant. To everyone’s shock, their friendship had seemed to flounder for months. But maybe that really wasn’t so surprising. Even aside from Chakotay’s odd and very brief affair with Seven, they’d all experienced a difficult period of readjustment as they reestablished old relationships, while at the same time trying to maintain the new ones they’d formed in the Delta Quadrant.

                Now, all these months later, the Admiral had smiled when she mentioned Chakotay’s name, a wistful smile Harry hadn’t seen since… Well, he couldn’t even remember. Early in their journey, anyway. And he suddenly wasn’t so sure he would be welcome at this particular reunion between his former commanding officers. But if Kayma was going to be there…dark-eyed, funny, beautiful Kayma…he’d go along for the ride.

                He got his second inkling that he’d made the wrong choice when he realized that “going along for the ride” meant _going along for the ride_. The Admiral had shown up at his apartment  out of uniform but in a state-of-the-art Starfleet groundcar, low and sleek. Harry ached to drive it. But he should have known the Admiral would insist on doing it herself.

                He also should have known that she would be the fastest, most unpredictable driver with whom he’d ever had the misfortune of riding.

                She wasn’t a _bad_ driver, of course. Just impulsive and a little reckless. She took another curve at speed, on a stretch of road a good hundred meters above the Pacific. Harry’s stomach lurched. He closed his eyes.

                “Chakotay told me this was a beautiful drive,” the Admiral said.

                Harry cleared his throat. “Oh, it is,” he agreed. “Maybe if we slowed down a little bit, we’d be able to see it better.”

                She patted the dashboard. “Not in this little fellow. He wants to _run_.”

                “Forgive me for saying this, Admiral, but you sound exactly like Tom.”

                She smiled. “Tom and I are a lot alike, Harry. Neither of us can resist a fine wine, a crowded pool hall or a fast car.”

                “The Commander will kill me if we die out here.”

                She turned and winked at him. _Eyes on the road, Admiral!_ Harry’s mind screamed. _Eyes on the road!_ “If we do, I’ll be sure to tell him it was my fault when I haunt him.”

                “That makes me feel a lot better,” he grumbled.

                She patted the dashboard again. “State-of-the-art safety features, Harry. We’ll be fine.”

                He gave her a tight smile that he knew was completely unconvincing.

                She sighed. “I’ll make you a deal, Lieutenant. If I get us to Big Sur in one piece, you can drive us back to San Francisco. Slowly and safely.”

                “I’ll keep my fingers crossed.”

                She gave a wicked little laugh and hit the accelerator again. Harry peered at the navigation panel on the dashboard. Forty kilometers to go. He settled back in his seat and searched his mind for the Vulcan meditation techniques Tuvok had taught him years ago. _I am calm. I am at peace. I am at one with the Universe._

                With just ten kilometers to go, Harry had finally meditated himself out of the worst of his motion sickness, if not his nervousness at spending the evening with the Commander and Admiral…and Kayma. To his surprise, the Admiral suddenly slowed the car. He glanced over at her and recognized her pensive expression.

                She seemed to feel his eyes on her and gave him a very slight smile. “I have a personal favor to ask of you, Harry.”

                “Anything, Admiral.”

                She nodded. “If you get a chance to take Kayma and leave the house for a little while, would you mind taking it? Without being too obvious about it, of course.”

                “Of course,” Harry replied quickly, bewildered by the request.

                “Thank you,” she said.

                Harry narrowed his eyes at her. “Is this really the first time you’ve visited the Commander at home since we got back?”

                She pursed her lips. “It is. He’s invited me, of course. I’ve just…never made the time.”

                Harry remembered the speculative way she had looked at the Commander at the wedding, and everything – her unexpected invitation to dinner, her pensive expression, even her careless driving – clicked into place. “But today you have.”

                The Admiral smiled. “Today I have.”

                “I won’t let you down, Admiral.”

                She laughed and patted his knee. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”        

                When they finally bumped up the lane to Chakotay’s house, Harry’s nervousness reasserted itself. He climbed out of the car on shaky legs.

                The Admiral, of course, popped out as if she hadn’t just held their lives in her two little hands. She dashed up to Chakotay’s house looking like she wanted to touch everything at once, from the weathered beams that held up the porch roof and the handmade wooden rocking chairs, to the hanging plants and flowers. In the end she simply placed her palm flat on the redwood-clad side of the cottage just as Chakotay emerged from the open doorway. He was out of uniform and wiping his hands on a yellow towel.

                “Welcome, Kathryn,” he said quietly, his eyes soft and warm on her – another expression Harry, who was trying hard to disappear into the forest, hadn’t seen in years. “I’m glad you’re here.”

                She brushed her fingertips over a potted plant next to the door. “This place is beautiful, Chakotay. You didn’t build it, did you?”

                He laughed. “In the nine months since we’ve been back? No. But I did do a lot of restoration work before I moved in. The previous owners were elderly artists. They loved the place, but they just couldn’t take care of it anymore. The salt air and fog had rotted most of the window frames and the porch roof. So I reclaimed what I could and cut a few new pieces. I’m also expanding the deck in back. Come on in and see the rest.”

                She glanced back over her shoulder. “Lieutenant Kim, could you shut down the car? Lieutenant?”

                Harry slunk out of the shadows. “Hi, Commander,” he murmured.

                Chakotay broke into a wide grin and ducked his head back into the house. “Hey, Kayma! Kathryn’s here and she brought something extra for you.”

                Harry groaned.

                His discomfort was fleeting, though. As soon as Kayma emerged from the house and saw him, she gave him a warm, surprised smile, hopped down from the porch and took his hands. “I’m so glad you came along,” she said softly, her brown eyes full of mischief. “He’s been driving me crazy all day, waiting for Kathryn to get here.”

                Harry took a step back, her hands still in his, and drank her in. If anything, she was even more lovely in jeans and a T-shirt than she’d been in her formal dress at Celes and Billy’s wedding. “I’m glad, too.” He decided to take a chance and kissed her on the cheek, lingering close to whisper in her ear. “And relieved to be here safely. The Admiral drives like a bat out of hell.”

                Kayma laughed and led him inside.

                Harry had visited the house twice before, both times in early summer before Kayma moved in. The place was neat and clean and filled to the brim with _Voyager_ mementoes, as always, but now with a few of Kayma’s touches around. There was a bright new blanket on the back of the pale sofa, two area rugs had exchanged places, and a second easy chair was pulled up near the fireplace.

                There were roses everywhere, too, vases of peach-colored blossoms decorating the dining table, brightening the kitchen counter, tucked into a bookshelf. Harry couldn’t help but smile. He’d seen those particular roses many times before, whether filling her Ready Room on her birthday or hidden behind Chakotay’s back as he crossed the Bridge. He wished Tom and B’Elanna were here to see them, and the look of delighted surprise the Admiral gave the Commander when she noticed them, too.

                Chakotay just cleared his throat and began to point out the various features of the house’s interior. Harry watched him gauge the Admiral’s reactions, then turn his eyes on each of the details he pointed out as if seeing the exposed beams and pine floors for the first time. Maybe he was, Harry recognized. Maybe seeing his own home through the Admiral’s eyes made it seem new to him all over again.

                Kayma squeezed his hand. “Let’s give them a minute. Come and help me with the stew and bread.”

                In the kitchen, Kayma rattled off the locations of bowls and plates and flatware while she stirred a pot on the stove. Harry kept an ear open for the Admiral and Commander. When he heard them step out onto the deck, he turned to Kayma. “How much time do you think we should give them?”

                She shrugged and pulled the stew off the fire. “I’m not sure. Chakotay asked me to disappear for a while after dinner so he could talk to her alone. That was before we knew you were coming, though.”

                Harry laughed out loud. “She asked me the same thing. Let’s watch for an opportunity.”

                Kayma turned her wide, warm eyes on him. “Like a covert operation? Do we need a signal?”

                “How about… I’ll ask you if there’s a good place on the beach to watch the sunset.”

                “Perfect. And perfectly romantic.” She popped up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Did I tell you how glad I am you came today, Harry?”

                Her dark hair smelled of jasmine. “No more glad than I am.”

                Together they set the table and summoned the Admiral and Commander in from the deck.

                Dinner was delicious, as Harry had known it would be, and the conversation among the four of them was easier than he imagined. Chakotay and Kayma seemed to delight in teasing each other, and before long the Admiral had joined in the fun. Harry sat back and listened to her needle him about his hermit lifestyle; he countered with her regular appearances in the Federation News. Harry knew these extremes were a little out of character for both of them. He felt certain that soon enough, the Admiral would lure the Commander back into their social fold, and Chakotay would deflect the spotlight from her – if she’d let him.

                Harry pushed himself away from the table with a satisfied sigh. “That was wonderful, sir,” he said. “I forgot what a good cook you are.”

                Kayma smiled fondly. “He is, isn’t he? I think I’ve gained five kilos since I got here.”

                Chakotay grabbed the bread basket from the sideboard. “There’s still half a loaf here.” He waved it at both women. “Don’t insult me by letting it go to waste.”

                Kayma groaned and waved it off, but the Admiral dove in and grabbed two thick slices. Harry had to hide his smile at the Commander’s look of amused satisfaction.

                Kayma drew his attention away with a hand on his knee and a small shake of her head. It was funny, watching Kayma try to give her cousin and the Admiral some privacy while they were all still sitting at the dinner table. “Tell me, Harry,” she began. “What’s the first thing you ate when _Voyager_ returned?”

                Harry toyed with his napkin. “Well, we were stuck with replicated food for the first few days.”

                “Really? That seems sad.”

                Chakotay retrieved the bread basket. “It was during the debriefings. We were all sequestered, and quarantined, too, just to make sure we weren’t carrying anything contagious.”

                The Admiral helped herself to the butter dish and slathered her bread with a thick layer. “But then Admiral Paris made sure we all got at least one fresh or homemade item.” She waved her slice of bread at him. “Tell Kayma what you had, Harry.”

                Harry smiled, remembering. “Chicken Bog, cheddar biscuits and sweet potato pie from a little Gullah restaurant in South Carolina.”

                Kayma tilted her head to one side. “Chicken Bog?”

                “A thick stew with chicken and sausages and rice. Lots of spices.” He closed his eyes. “I’d never tasted anything quite so good in my life. Tom wanted some, but there was no way I was going to share it.” He chuckled. “I just about made myself sick on it.”

                “It sounds delicious, though.”

                “It is.” He nodded at the empty bowl in front of him. “Almost as good as your stew, Commander. It was delicious.”

                “Thank you, Harry.”

                The Admiral bit into her second slice of bread and gave a hum of satisfaction. “Oh, how I’ve missed your cooking, Chakotay. Especially your baking.”

                “You’re welcome any time, Kathryn. You know that.”

                Kayma glanced at her cousin. “You cooked on _Voyager_?”

                The Commander nodded. “When I could. Usually I couldn’t spare the time. But once in a while I had both the time and the urge, so…”

                The Admiral smiled. “And a willing dinner guest.”

                He cocked an eyebrow at her. “’Willing’?”

                She chuckled. “Most of the time.”

                Chakotay shook his head and laughed. “Only after a lot of cajoling and the promise of either a homemade dessert or unlimited coffee – on _my_ rations.”

                Kayma smiled. “What did he cook for you, Kathryn?”

                The Admiral’s eyes took on a faraway look. “Lasagna, Vegetable Biryani, Eggplant Parmesan…”

                Kayma nodded. “He does do wonderful things with eggplant, doesn’t he?”

                “Indeed he does. It was always a welcome break from replicated food – or Neelix’s cooking, bless his heart.”

                Harry groaned. “I do not miss that Xangtrangian Seaweed Casserole one bit.”

                “Hair pasta,” Chakotay offered with a shudder.

                “Anglabosque,” the Admiral agreed.

                “Loggerhead eggs,” Harry said, and wrinkled his nose. “They looked okay, but they smelled like old gym socks.”

                “Gym socks filled with cheese,” Chakotay said, and they all laughed.

                The Admiral pushed her empty bread plate away. “Leola Root Surprise, better-than-coffee coffee substitute, Smurian beetle bake… He really was quite creative in his own way, wasn’t he?”

                Kayma smiled. “Sounds like it. But didn’t you discover things you loved, too? Is there anything you miss?”

                “Kadera berries,” Chakotay said at once. “They made great pies.”

                The Admiral nodded. “I remember those pies.”

                “You should,” he replied. “You ate most of one before dinner one night.”

                “I was hungry!”

                Chakotay gave a soft laugh. “You ate half a pie before dinner, then dinner, then the other half of the pie.”

                Harry stared at her, wide-eyed. “I can’t imagine you eating that much at one sitting, Admiral.”

                She shrugged. “It was nice to have something that tasted different,” she said simply. “Something out of the routine.”

                Kayma leaned her elbows on the table and stared at the Admiral. “Did you usually eat the same thing?”

                The Admiral nodded, toying with her napkin. “Coffee and a croissant for breakfast, a sandwich and fruit for lunch--”

                “When you bothered to _eat_ lunch,” Chakotay grumbled.

                The Admiral threw him a dirty look. “Then whatever Neelix or Chell made for dinner. It was easier that way.”

                “Easier?” Harry asked. He glanced at the Commander, who was staring out the window with an unreadable expression.

                Janeway nodded. “I found that the less energy I expended on small, everyday choices, the more energy I had for the big, life-or-death decisions.”

                Harry sat back in his chair. He’d never thought of it in those terms, but the Admiral’s words rang completely, horribly true. When so many of her waking hours were consumed by making the decisions that would determine their survival, she had very little time or energy to expend on the small things the rest of them took for granted – how to spend her limited free time, even what to eat. He suddenly felt terribly sad for her.

                Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kayma nodding. “Decision fatigue,” she said. “It makes perfect sense.” Everyone at the table stared at her. She shrugged. “What you’re describing has a psychological, neurological basis: Decision fatigue. Every decision you make over the course of a day, no matter how small, takes a toll on the human brain. Glycogen levels fall and the brain doesn’t stop functioning so much as start functioning differently, looking to satisfy its need for energy. Until that glycogen is restored, the brain becomes more susceptible to making bad choices and acting on impulse.”

                Chakotay shook his head. “I told you you needed to eat better, Kathryn.”

                “I ate,” she protested.

                “’Better,’” he repeated.

                Kayma went on as if they hadn’t interrupted. “It gets worse over time, too. The longer you go on without adequate food or rest, the longer you force yourself to make decisions, the easier you’ll succumb to things like impulsivity and recklessness.”

                The Admiral wrung her napkin in her hands while Chakotay continued to stare out the window, stone-faced.

                With a shrug, Kayma continued. “Even just resisting temptation over time takes a toll and triggers decision fatigue. The longer you deny yourself what you really want, the more likely you are to give in to the next thing that’s offered, even if you know it’s wrong.”

                Harry froze. _Stop talking, Kayma_ , he thought desperately. _Just stop talking._

                But Kayma barreled on. “It plays out in personal relationships, too, usually as impulsive infidelity. Someone who over and over again has to keep her or his hands to himself is more likely to--” She stopped suddenly. “Oh,” she said, realization dawning in her dark eyes. “I didn’t mean--”

                The room stilled. Harry held his breath, until the Admiral finally turned to Kayma and smiled. “It’s all right, Kayma,” she said softly. “It’s all in the past now.” She gazed at Chakotay. “Isn’t it?”

                He hesitated, then nodded slowly. Harry tried not to let the breath whoosh from his lungs. “It is,” Chakotay said. “Thankfully, it is.” He turned to Kayma and gave a sly little wink before gazing back at the Admiral again. “What’s amazing, Kathryn, although I shouldn’t be surprised, is that without knowing what you were doing, you found a way to deal with decision fatigue by limiting at least a few of your own choices.”

                She threw her napkin on the table. “Not an experience I care to repeat, however,” she said.

                Chakotay leaned toward her. “You know you don’t have to anymore.”

                She eyed him warily, then smiled. “I know.”

                Once again, Harry wished Tom and B’Elanna were there to see all of this. He suspected things were changing between his former commanders, and it was high time.

                Chakotay rose and began to clear the dinner dishes.  “Give me a hand with dessert, Harry?” he asked.

                Harry rose at once. “Of course, sir.”

                In the kitchen, Chakotay uncovered the pie that he’d left cooling on the countertop and started a pot of coffee. “Can I ask you a favor?”

                Harry almost had to pinch himself to keep from laughing out loud. “Sure, Commander.”

                “The Admiral’s got some data to share with Kayma right now. But when they’re finished, could you take Kayma out for a little while? I need to speak with Kath – the Admiral – privately.”

                “Of course, sir,” Harry nodded.

                “I knew I could count on you, Lieutenant.”

                They all moved to the sofa for pie and coffee. The Admiral retrieved the PADD she’d brought with her and began to explain their encounter with Chaotic Space and how it had reactivated the gene Chakotay had had suppressed before birth. Harry offered comments where he could, but he’d been primarily concerned with reconfiguring the sensors at the time and knew very little about the Commander’s experiences. In an hour or so the conversation became too medical for him to follow, so he contented himself with watching Kayma.

                She was beautiful. Exotically lovely, with high cheekbones and dark eyes and wavy black hair that begged to be touched. The more she warmed to the topic, the more enthusiastic and focused she became, with bright eyes and flushed cheeks. He was…captivated. He glanced over at Chakotay and discovered the same enraptured expression there, but directed at the Admiral.

                Maybe it was time to go.

                Another half hour passed while the two women talked. When there was finally a lull in the conversation, Harry cleared his throat and nodded toward the big window overlooking the ocean. “I think sunset is going to be spectacular. Is there a good place on the beach to watch it?”

                Kayma jumped up and winked at him. “There’s a great spot just down the coast. And there’s a taco stand right on the beach if anybody’s hungry for a snack. Shall we?”

                The Admiral and Commander rose, too. “After that dinner?” the Admiral said, patting her flat belly. “I couldn’t possibly eat again so soon.”

                “Me either,” Chakotay said, and Harry had to bite his cheek to keep from exploding with laughter. The Commander’s endless appetite was somewhat infamous among the _Voyager_ crew. “Why don’t you and Kayma go on?” Chakotay suggested. “Enjoy the sunset, stay out as long as you like.”

                Harry paused at that. “I don’t want to strand the Admiral here.”

                Chakotay turned to the Admiral. “They can take your groundcar. I’ll take you back to Monterey before the transport station closes.”

                Harry took an eager step forward. “Or I could drive The Falcon, and—”

                Chakotay clapped him on the shoulder. “No. But nice try, Lieutenant.”

                Harry heaved a dramatic sigh. “Someday, sir. Someday.”

                Kayma fished in a closet for her jacket and pressed one of Chakotay’s into his hands. “Let’s go,” she said, and dragged him out of the house.

                Behind the controls of the sleek Starfleet craft with Kayma at his side, Harry realized that the Admiral had been right. The little fellow _did_ want to run. He hit the accelerator and they flew down the coast, racing the sun.

                When they reached her favorite spot for watching the sunset and Kayma wrapped her arms around him, Harry decided that agreeing to accompany the Admiral today had been a good idea. A very good idea indeed, on every conceivable level.

=/\=

                It was perfect. A moonless night, a lonely stretch of highway, very little possibility of witnesses. The young officer – Kim, if he remembered correctly – was an unforeseen complication, but not an insurmountable one. The Admiral might even come willingly if she thought the boy was in danger. It was the kind of woman she was. Selfless and noble…except when it mattered.

                The man’s hands tightened on the steering controls.

                He would have her soon enough, the great Kathryn Janeway…and then the Maquis would come for her. He would have them both.

                The man swung his groundcar off the road and let it roll to a halt among the trees and shadows. He killed the lights and the engine and, with a smile of satisfaction, pulled the weapon across his knees. Settling back into the driver’s seat, he glanced up at the darkening sky, the sunset reflected in his mad black eyes.

-END Part 5-


	6. Chapter 6

** Part 6 **

                “Have we resorted to matchmaking, Commander?”

                “You’re the one who delivered him,” Chakotay teased. They watched the Starfleet groundcar bump down the shadowy lane and out of sight.

                “Then let’s call it...facilitating.”

                He shrugged. “I just want to see her happy.”

                “Tell me about her.”

                Chakotay glanced down at her. Kathryn was nothing if not perceptive. “What do you want to know?”

                “Have the two of you always been so close?”

                He nodded and turned back to the house, one hand unconsciously drifting to Kathryn’s lower back to guide her ahead of him. “She was born when I was twenty-three, just back from my first deep-space assignment. I couldn’t go back to Trebus, so I stayed with Tohopa and Ixche when I had leave time.”

                “Ish-chay?”

                 He smiled at the way she mangled the unfamiliar arrangement of consonants. “Tohopa’s husband.”

                “You’ve never mentioned him.”

                Chakotay shook his head. “He died in the slaughter on Tevlik’s moon.”

                Kathryn gasped. “He was in the Maquis?”

                “No.” He felt the old anger crawling up his spine and turned away from her so she wouldn’t see it. “He heard there were refugees there who needed medical attention, so he went.”

                “He was a physician,” Kathryn guessed correctly, “on an errand of mercy.”

                “Yes. The Cardassians killed him anyway.”

                She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Chakotay. For everything your family has suffered. Everything.”

                He shook off her hand and ducked into the kitchen for a bottle of wine. He had a feeling they’d need it before the evening was over. “Kayma wanted to be a physician like her father. She’s had a difficult time since Ixche died.”

                “I’m sure.”

                “Tohopa thought maybe new surroundings would help her feel the sting of his passing a little less.”

                Kathryn accepted the glass of wine he offered her. “New surroundings…and you.”

                He sipped at his own wine. “Maybe.”

                “Is it working?”

                “I think so. I can never be a substitute for Ixche, and I don’t want to be. But I hope I’m at least helping.” He gestured out to the deck. “Shall we?”

                She led the way outside and seated herself in a lounge chair. “She said at the wedding she has two brothers?”

                Chakotay gave a quiet laugh and perched on the edge of the deck where he could see her face and look out over the water at the same time. “Abeke and Neka. Seventeen-year-old twin Tricksters.”

                “They’re doing all right since their father’s death?”

                “It’s hard on them, too, but they have each other to lean on. Although I suspect Tohopa will send them to me for the summer next year.” He glanced at Kathryn.  “Neka’s thinking about Starfleet Academy.”

                “And he needs a sponsor other than a family member?”

                He nodded. “Will you spend some time with him?”

                “I’d be happy to.” She sipped her wine. “How is your sister?”

                “She’s well. Busy with the kids, as usual.” He reached down to the ground between his feet and picked up a dark stone, rolling it in his palm. “She’s hoping to bring them all for a visit after the first of the year.”

                Kathryn smiled. “You’ll be a hermit with a house full of people.”

                He bristled. “I’m not really a hermit.”

                She patted his shoulder. “I know. But you do like your privacy. You always did.”

                He tossed the stone into the high grass beyond the deck. “Your mother is well?”

                She chuckled. “A force to be reckoned with, as always. Phoebe and I have suggested that she retire from teaching. She won’t hear of it. Claims her students wouldn’t know what to do without her.” Kathryn leaned toward him. “Honestly, though, I think she loves teaching too much to stop.”

                “I sympathize with that. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it until I returned to the Academy.”

                “The two of you should compare notes.” Kathryn sipped her wine. “She asks after you every time we speak.”

                Surprised, he turned to face her. “Does she?”

                Kathryn nodded. “She always wants to know how you’re doing and when I’m going to bring you home for dinner.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “I think she’s smitten.”

                Chakotay ducked his head to hide his grin. He’d met Gretchen Janeway only twice: First at the welcome-home party and then again just a month before Celes and Billy’s wedding, when she’d turned up at his favorite little restaurant in Monterey claiming that “no one does Cove Mussels like Monsieur Allard.” Over a bottle of fine French Syrah, they’d talked about the _Voyager_ crew’s adjustment to the Alpha Quadrant and the trials and triumphs of teaching ambitious young students. Eventually, when her pink cheeks and loose tongue reminded him of Kathryn after she’d had a few, Gretchen had begun to pontificate upon an unexpected topic: The risks and rewards of being married to a Starfleet Admiral, the strength and character such a love required, and the particular faults that might make a person unsuited for such a position.

                At the time he’d passed it off as an odd coincidence.

                Now, having met Richard Thorpe for himself, he wasn’t so sure.

                “Next time you talk to her,” he said with a cryptic smile, “give her my best.”

                Kathryn gave him a sidelong glance. “You’re not telling me something.”

                Chakotay shrugged. “She’s a delightful person. I’m glad to know her. That’s all.”

                Annoyed, Kathryn tossed her head and frowned at the ocean, as if it could divulge his secrets. “I’ll get it out of one of you. Make no mistake about that.”

                “I look forward to it.” He leaned back on his hands. “How is Phoebe?”

                If she was irritated by the change of subject, she didn’t show it. “Busy with the kids – a lot like Sekaya, I imagine.”

                Chakotay smiled. “Do you see her often?”

                She nodded. “I try to get to Mom’s for the Sunday family brunch whenever I can.”

                He sighed. “I wish my mother and sister lived closer.”

                 “You’ve never considered moving back to Trebus?”

                “No. My work is here. My home is here.” _You’re here_ , he thought, but kept it to himself. “I’ll see them in January or February. Maybe my mother will come, too.”

                She patted his shoulder. “I can tell you that living so close to your family has its drawbacks, though.”

                “Oh?”

                She twirled the wineglass in her fingertips. “Mom and Phoebe… They don’t like Richard.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “They’re trying to be diplomatic about it, but I can tell.”

                Chakotay stilled, unsure of how to respond to that. Tom and B’Elanna didn’t care much for him, either. Harry seemed more willing to give him a chance, but Chakotay wondered if his own disdain for the man had been obvious at the wedding. “That must be difficult,” he said carefully.

                She nodded and sipped her wine. “I keep telling them that he’s charming, and very smart.”

                “And rich.”

                “And rich,” she acknowledged.

                Chakotay looked up at her, wondering just how much he should say. “The other day, you said you felt like you were trying to talk yourself into something that isn’t there.”

                Kathryn sighed. “Richard is very married to his work.”

                The fading light played over her features, revealing sudden fatigue and a hint of wistfulness. For years, he’d thought _she_ was “married” to her work. The irony was obvious. “You don’t like being the one left behind,” he deduced.

                Her eyes snapped around to his, bright and piercing. He raised his chin at her, challenging her to deny it. “No,” she finally said. “I don’t. He isn’t overt about it, but he’s broken more than one date in order to take care of work.” She gave him a lopsided smile. “He left in the middle of a performance of _The Taming of the Shrew_. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. But before today the only date I’ ever broken was the night I came to the gym to see you.”

                Chakotay tamped down a surge of anger at Richard Thorpe. Kathryn Janeway deserved better than to be treated so callously. “You’ve made a space in your life for someone who hasn’t offered you an equal courtesy,” he said.

                She turned away quickly, but not before he saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes.

                He reached out and took her hand. “Are you happy, Kathryn?”

                She drew back as if he’d surprised her, but didn’t release his hand. “I’ve been too busy to think about it either way,” she said. “Between my work and my family and Richard, the months have just flown by.”

                That she hadn’t yet made the effort to assess her own emotional state, post-Delta Quadrant, didn’t surprise him in the least. “Maybe you should take some time for yourself.”

                “Maybe,” she acknowledged, but said nothing more. After a while she squeezed his hand and released it.

                He let the echo of the waves crashing below fill the silence before he spoke again, hoping she would find the rhythmic sound as calming as he did. “I didn’t send Harry and Kayma away to talk about our families. Or your…” He stopped, at a loss for words.

                “’Lover?’” she suggested.

                His insides clenched. He took a deep, centering breath. “I want to explain about Seven,” he began, but she stopped him with a touch.

                “You don’t need to explain anything. I’m sure Kayma’s ‘decision fatigue’ played into it, but what you said at the wedding, that Seven asked and you agreed, is already more than I have a right to know.”

                He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or irritated that she didn’t want to hear his justification for his behavior—although he was touched by her generosity, as always. “But I shouldn’t have--”

                “No.” She gripped his arm and stared into his eyes, her face set in grim, serious lines. “’Should’ and ‘shouldn’t’ don’t even enter into this, Chakotay. You did what you did, and so did she, of your own volition. You’re both adults, and you both made your decisions. Whatever might have happened between you if we had remained in the Delta Quadrant is moot now. The Admiral changed the timeline. Her version of the future, whatever it was, won’t happen. And there’s nothing more to say.”

                He frowned. “I think there’s a hell of a lot more to say, Kathryn.” She let go of him and turned back to the water. Her face gave nothing away, but the wineglass in her hand trembled.  His voice dropped to a low rumble. “You know something else, don’t you?”

                Her lips drew together in a thin, tight line. “Even if I did, I couldn’t tell you.”

                “Temporal Prime Directive, right?” He snorted. “The one time I’m desperate for more information, you decide to stick to it.” He sipped his wine. “She told Seven she’d hurt me.”

                Kathryn raised her chin but didn’t look at him. “And did she?”

                He thought back on his time with Seven, the timetables, the expectations, the complete and utter lack of spontaneity. He’d been intrigued by her and attracted to her, certainly, but her rigidity had soon overwhelmed that attraction. The naïveté that had been charming at first had become tiresome the minute they’d set foot on Earth together. In retrospect, he was surprised their liaison had lasted as long as it did. The decision to part had been mutual, amicable, and extremely welcome. “No. Not in the least.”

                Kathryn flicked a hand at him. “There you go. Proof the timeline is changed. There’s nothing to worry about,” she said. “Not anymore,” she added then, so softly Chakotay almost didn’t catch it.              

                He waited for her to continue, but she only gazed out at the water in silence, the now-steady wineglass held loosely in her fingertips. “It wouldn’t have lasted anyway,” he offered.

                That got her attention. “What makes you say that?”

                “I told her that no matter what happened, when we got to Earth I wanted to stay within transporter distance of her.” He shrugged. “That could mean in the same city or halfway around the world. Not exactly the words of a man who’s ready to make a commitment.”

                “I suppose not. But I meant what I said at dinner. It’s in the past now, and that’s where it needs to stay.”

                The sun sank lower in the sky. When he rose to refill her wineglass, he caught his breath at the way the sunset illuminated the highlights in her hair. There was that jolt of desire again, the same one he’d felt when she walked into the wedding on another man’s arm, the same one he’d felt when she summoned him to her side wearing nothing but a fluffy towel. The same one, if he was being honest with himself, he’d felt the very first time he saw her on the Bridge of her _Voyager_.

                Maybe at the wedding…it hadn’t been the dress at all.

                Maybe it was just _her_. Her fierce intelligence, her endless compassion, her inexorable drive to do the right thing no matter the cost. He sighed and sank into the lounge chair beside her.

                She turned her piercing blue eyes on him again. “Something else on your mind?”

                He offered her a warm smile to cover all the many things that were on his mind but he couldn’t say. Not yet. “I’m just…glad you finally came, Kathryn.”

                “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.” With a wave of her hand she took in the ocean view, the house, the surrounding forest. “It’s so peaceful here. I love it.”

                “You’re always welcome.” He drank in the sight of her lounging in his chair, her expression calm and comfortable now, although he couldn’t help but notice the tired lines around her eyes. “Any time you need a rest or a break from the Admiralty. You can come here to relax. My door will always be open.”

                “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

                His mind wandered back through the evening. He’d followed her from room to room, delighting in her words of surprise and appreciation at all the little details of his house, all the homey touches he’d been attracted to without really knowing why. “You could never be an imposition here, Kathryn,” he said. “Never.”

                Her piercing gaze fell on him again. “An intrusion, then.”

                He almost laughed out loud. “An intrusion on what? My little domestic comedy with Kayma?”

                “On…something else.”

                With a shake of his head, he dismissed the notion that there would ever be “something else” in this place. He set his wineglass on the table and took both of her hands in his. “No, Kathryn. You could never be an imposition or an intrusion here. I want this house to be as much a refuge for you as it has been for me. It’s here whenever you need it.”

                She started to protest again, but before the words crossed her lips she yawned so widely he was sure he heard her jaw crack. “Sorry,” she said, with a crooked smile that went straight to his heart. “I think the wine’s getting to me.”

                He squeezed her hands. “Let’s get you back to Monterey before you fall asleep.”

                She perked up at that. “Do we get to take The Falcon?”

                He gave her a mischievous grin. “We do.”

                She slipped a hand into the crook of his elbow as they strolled into the house. “I can’t wait to tell Tom. He’ll be so jealous.”

=/\=

                “What were they like on _Voyager_?”

                “Who?

                “Who do you think?” Kayma rolled her eyes at him. “Chakotay and the Admiral.”

                Harry swung the Starfleet groundcar out on to the highway, heading north. It was near 2200 hours; they’d enjoyed the sunset together on the beach, tacos at a little Mexican dive where Kayma chatted with the waitstaff in flawless Spanish, and coffee in a quiet café a few kilometers away from Chakotay’s house.

                “They were friends,” Harry said cautiously. “Close friends.”

                Kayma nodded. “That’s what he says, too.”

                He glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. “You don’t believe him?”

                She threw him a mischievous grin. “We’ve had visitors before. She’s the only one he’s ever filled the house with roses for.”

                Harry laughed. “It’s not the first time he’s done it, though.”

                “No?”

                He shook his head and tried to think of adequate words to describe the relationship between his former commanders on _Voyager_ , words that would capture the depth of both their trust and their occasional conflicts. “We were all we had out there,” he began carefully. “We had to depend on each other for everything – trust, friendship, sometimes love. And if things went wrong we couldn’t escape each other. So diving into a relationship was risky.”

                “What about Tom and B’Elanna?”

                “They decided to take the risk.”

                “But Chakotay and Kathryn decided not to?”

                Harry sighed. He didn’t feel like getting into the particulars of the Starfleet fraternization policy as it applied to Command-level officers, so he settled on the vaguest description he could think of. “Their positions made everything different. Harder. Even their friendship was hard sometimes, because every disagreement was…magnified. We all knew when something was wrong between them. We weren’t supposed to, but we did.”

                “But  then you knew when things were right, too?” Harry nodded and smiled. “The roses,” Kayma guessed.

                “The roses,” he echoed. “See, we all had these little rituals out there,” he said with a smile. “Small things we did that became important and probably kept us sane. Tom and B’Elanna had pizza night in their quarters. Tuvok grew orchids. The Captain painted. Chakotay read. Neelix baked. I replicated a clarinet and music.”

                “You play?”

                He nodded. “It kept me grounded out there. If I could go back to my quarters after a long shift or a crisis and play my clarinet, it seemed like everything was all right, even for just a few minutes.”

                “It felt normal,” she offered, “in a situation that was far from normal.”

                He nodded. “Exactly. And we did things for each other, too. B’Elanna treated her staff to lunch every couple of weeks. Tom gave up Holodeck time so Sue and Philicia could have a date night once a month. The Captain tried to always walk us to quarters when one of us was released from Sickbay, and whenever the Commander returned from an Away Mission she had tea waiting for him on the Bridge.”

                “And Chakotay brought her roses.”

                Harry chuckled. “He made sure there were always fresh flowers in her Ready Room, whether he had to cut them from the Airponics Bay or replicate them. On her birthday, he filled her office with roses.”

                Kayma laughed fondly. “He’s kind of a hopeless romantic.”

                “He is, but I’m not sure that was his intention.” Harry smirked. “Not then, anyway.”

                “His intentions seemed pretty plain today,” Kayma said. “Do you think Kathryn understood?”

                Harry shrugged. “She’d have to be blind not to.”

                She was quiet for a time, watching him. “If this goes the way we think it’s going,” she began slowly, “how are your friends going to react? Are they going to be all right with this? Are you?”

                 Harry tapped his fingertips on the steering controls. “I think so,” he said. “I don’t know if I’d have been so supportive out there. I like to think I would have, but I’m really not sure.” He paused. “But here? They’re both adults, and there’s no chain of command between them anymore. If this is what they want, then they should give it a try.”

                Kayma snuggled down into the passenger seat with a satisfied little smile. “I think so, too,”

                 “They both gave up too much out there.” He slowed the car and steered around a sharp curve. “They deserve this.”

                As they came around the curve and onto open road again, Kayma sat up suddenly and touched his knee. “Do you see that guy?” she asked urgently.

                Harry tapped the brakes and flipped the headlights to a brighter setting. Sure enough, about a quarter kilometer down the highway a solitary figure waved for attention next to a stopped groundcar. “Yeah, I see him. There’s a standard toolkit in the back. Should we stop?”

                “Probably.” Kayma frowned. “We hardly ever see other cars out here.”

                Harry nodded at the figure. “He must be glad to see us, then.” He pulled the car over to the side of the road and stopped. “I’ll find out what he needs.”

                He was halfway out of the car before he got a good look at the man’s face. He froze, one foot in the car, one foot on the ground, his hands gripping the sharp edge of the door. “This is impossible,” he gasped.

                Then he saw the phaser.

-END Part 6-


	7. Chapter 7

** Part 7 **

                “So this is it.”

                “This is it.” Chakotay couldn’t take his eyes off Kathryn’s pale hands caressing The Falcon’s every curve and plane. A glimpse of her slim wrist as she brushed her fingertips across the hood made him shiver.

                She rounded the car slowly, taking in every detail with whispered delight, until she stood next to him again. “It’s exquisite, Commander.”

                To hide his reddening face,  he reached over and manually rolled the top down. “It’s a bit…overdramatic.”

                Kathryn smiled up at him. “Maybe.”

                “Kayma calls it ‘The Midlife Crisis Mobile.’” Out of the corner of his eye he saw her bite her lip to keep from laughing at him. He frowned. “I know it’s a little out character for me.”

                She drew back in surprise. “I don’t think it is.”

                “You don’t?”

                “No. Not at all.” She waved a hand at him. “You are very much the product of two cultures, Chakotay. You’re equally at home here in the woods, kilometers from your nearest neighbor, or at the helm of a starship with state-of-the-art technology in your hands.” She patted The Falcon’s hood. “This machine represents both. It bridges the gap between your profession and your private life. It’s solid and reliable, like you.” She reached over and fingered the sleeve of his civilian jacket. “It’s also high-tech and stylish, but at fifty years old, stylish in a classic way.”

                He rocked back on his heels. “Forty-nine,” he corrected.

                “What?”

                He shrugged. “B’Elanna keeps reminding me that it was ‘born’ the same year I was. So it’s not yet fifty.” He fished the starter from his jacket pocket. “It’s only forty-nine.”

                She raised a hand and touched his cheek. Her eyes roamed over his face, bringing his every nerve ending to sudden and sparkling life. “It’s in very good shape for its advanced age.”

                He held his breath. “Thank you,” he said, his throat tight.

                She stroked his jaw with her fingertips. “I want to ask you a question.”

                “Anything,” he whispered, covering the hand on his cheek with his own.  He’d forgotten the way her fingers, so small and fine, always disappeared under his.

                She leaned so close to him he could feel her breath on his neck. “Can I drive?”

                He closed his eyes and tilted his face down to hers. “No,” he replied.

                She snatched her hand away. “But I just said--”

                He laughed at her outrage and opened the passenger door. “I know what you just said, and you still can’t drive my car. You can barely keep your eyes open, and I’d like to arrive in Monterey in one piece.” He waved to the car’s interior. “We’re going to have to hurry to get there before the transport station closes. I suggest you put away your indignation and climb inside.” He took off his jacket and handed it to her. “You’ll want this. It gets chilly with the top down.”

                With an annoyed little sniff, she snatched the jacket, slid into the car and slammed the door behind her.

                It was a good ten minutes before she unknotted her limbs and relaxed, his jacket pulled around her like a blanket.

                The moonless night closed around the car. Tall redwoods and pines loomed over the highway, forming a shadowy tunnel ahead of them, leaving deep darkness behind. Kathryn pointed out three mule deer in the vegetation at the side of the highway. Once, a coyote darted in front of the car and out of sight before Chakotay could even react.

                A comfortable silence settled over them both. The background purr of The Falcon’s engine felt familiar and right, somehow. They’d spent many silent hours in her Ready Room or quarters, the hum of _Voyager_ ’s engine hovering at the edges of the shared quiet.

                When the lights of Monterey came into view, Chakotay glanced over just in time to see her eyelids flutter closed. He let the car roll to a halt at the side of the road. The image of her he’d had at the car dealership, her hair flying behind her and her hand resting on his thigh, hovered in his mind’s eye. It was a powerful image, and seductive. But the reality before him was so much different…so much _better_ …that for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. 

                For the first time since their days on _Voyager_ , she had ceded control to him, had placed herself completely in his hands and allowed herself to relax and let go and fall asleep. She must feel safe with him, and cared for.

                Watching her sleep, her face serene and vulnerable, he fervently _hoped_ she felt safe and cared for.

                Unable to bear the thought of waking her up and breaking the peaceful spell of these stolen moments, he brushed a strand of hair away from her face, pulled the jacket more snugly around her shoulders, and restarted the car. Without letting himself examine the consequences of his actions, he steered back onto the highway and pointed The Falcon toward San Francisco.

=/\=

                “I don’t want any trouble.”

                Kayma sat very still in the passenger seat, unsure whether to stay in or get out. She’d heard Harry’s gasp when the thin man had stepped toward the car, and his soft, bewildered words: “This is impossible.” Harry recognized the stranger and was clearly alarmed at his presence. Kayma leaned forward and tried to get a glimpse of the man, but it was too dark and Harry was standing in the way.

                “If you need assistance with your car, I’d be happy to help,” Harry continued. “You can put the weapon away.”

                _Weapon?_ Kayma drew back into the seat. Her eyes darted over the car’s interior, looking for signs of a phaser. Surely these Starfleet types never left the house unarmed? But as far as she could see there was no weapon at hand. There was nothing in the car of value at all. So why had the man stopped them? What was he looking for?

                “Oh, I don’t think I should,” the man said in a dark, edgy voice. Kayma frowned. The voice sounded almost familiar. She heard soft footsteps. Harry moved slightly away from the car, keeping himself between the man and her. She understood that he was doing it on purpose in order to keep from giving away her presence and putting her in danger. She shrank further into the seat and held her breath.

                “I have no quarrel with you, sir,” Harry said. “So if you’ll just put the weapon away I’ll get back in my car and—“

                “Who’s your friend?” the voice said.

                Cold fear crawled up Kayma’s spine.

                Harry stilled. “I’m alone,” he said.

                The thin man laughed. “You’re a terrible liar, Ensign Kim. Oh, it’s ‘Lieutenant’ now, isn’t it? Congratulations.” His voice dropped. “Now get out of the way.”

                Harry didn’t move. “You stopped me on purpose, didn’t you? You were expecting me. Mister…Suder, isn’t it?”

                The thin man laughed. The sound made Kayma tremble. “Oh, you _are_ a smart one, aren’t you?” He paused. “Since you’ll be dead in a few minutes anyway, I’ll tell you. You’re right. Lon was my brother. That monster Chakotay dragged him into the Maquis when he should have been getting help for his psychosis.”

                “That’s not true,” Harry said fiercely. “Chakotay didn’t want Lon in his cell. Nobody did. Chakotay was afraid of him.”

                Kayma pulled her knees to her chest and fought back tears. Someone Chakotay feared must be someone dangerous indeed. This brother of his could be capable of anything. She thought about making a run for it, but Suder had a weapon. Leaving the car would surely get one or both of them injured, or worse.

                “Chakotay _wanted_ murderers in his cell,” Suder scoffed. “That was the whole _point_ of the Maquis, wasn’t it? To kill.”

                “To defend,” Harry countered, and in spite of the circumstances, Kayma felt a small swell of pride at his words.

                But Suder laughed again. “Lon wasn’t defending anything.  He just wanted to murder Cardassians. Or whoever he could get his hands on. Chakotay was right to be afraid of him. He should have sent him back to Betazed so we could help him. But he didn’t, did he? Then he got my brother stranded with that bitch Janeway, who just left him to die.”

                Harry took a step toward the man. “Stop it,” he ground out. “Just tell me what you want from me or let me be on my way. I had nothing to do with Chakotay’s cell and I barely knew Lon.”

                “Don’t you understand, Lieutenant Harry Kim?” Suder sneered. “It’s not you I want. It’s them. Janeway and Chakotay. I’m going to make them pay for what they did to my brother. Now, get out of the way and let me have her.”

                He tried to shove Harry aside, but Harry grabbed at the man’s weapon. Suder yanked it back, and Harry used the older man’s momentum to slam him to the ground. “Take the car!” Harry shouted. “Take the car and get back to Chakotay! Do it now!”

                Kayma pushed down her terror and slid into the driver’s seat, her gaze darting frantically over  the controls. The Falcon was the only car she’d ever driven, and then only the length of the lane in front of the house; this state-of-the-art vehicle was completely unfamiliar to her.

                The two men continued to fight for the weapon. “I _knew_ you weren’t alone, Harry,” Suder taunted. “Why doesn’t your brave Captain get out and fight?”

                Kayma blanched, realizing that Suder thought she was Kathryn. Once Suder figured out she wasn’t who he thought she was, he could very well kill them both. She had to get back to Chakotay and warn him to get to Kathryn, who was surely home in San Francisco by now. She stabbed at the car’s controls, trying to ignore the sounds of the struggle outside the car.

                Just as she finally located the control that would restart the car, there was a blinding flash of red light, and silence. The phaser had been discharged. She hesitated, waiting for Harry’s reassuring voice…but there was nothing.

                Fighting back tears of fear and confusion, she reached out slowly to close the car door, hoping that Suder wouldn’t react quickly enough to stop her.

                It was a miscalculation. The man leapt up and stopped the door with his own body.

                “Don’t,” Suder said, and pressed the phaser to her temple. Kayma looked up and gasped at the sight of his face, his receding hairline, pale, sharp features and glittering black eyes. It was the man from the parking lot the night of the wedding. That’s why she’d recognized the voice.

                The man started to pull her from the car…and stopped, his weapon still pressed to her temple. “ _You_ ,” he huffed. “You’re not supposed to be here.” Kayma tried to shrink back from the weapon aimed at her head, but Suder’s other hand shot out and grasped a handful of her hair. “She’s with him, isn’t she?” When she didn’t answer, he pulled her hair tighter an gave her head a violent shake. “Isn’t she?”

                Kayma whimpered and nodded. Suder’s sudden smile was almost feral. Kayma tried to pull away from him, but his hold on her hair was too strong. “You’re not _her_ ,” he rasped in his dark, edgy voice, “but you’ll do for now.”

                He yanked her out of the car and shoved her to the ground. The gravel at the side of the highway bit into her cheek, rubbing it raw. With one knee on her back keeping her pinned to the ground, Suder dropped the weapon long enough to bind her hands and feet. She cried out when the sharp edge of the cuffs sliced into her wrists, and Suder laughed again. “Oh, you’ll definitely do for now.”

                He pulled her up and turned her to face away from the car. Harry lay a few meters away, still and silent. Kayma closed her eyes.

                Suder shook her. “Look at him,” he said. “Look.” He seized her face in one hand. She cried out again at the bite of his grasping, grinding fingers. “Open your eyes or I swear I’ll kill you, too.” When he pressed the phaser to her jaw, she wrenched her eyes open. There was a gaping, burning hole in the middle of Harry’s chest. “How does that feel?” Suder murmured, his lips almost brushing her ear. “Let yourself feel it.”

                Bewildered, terrified, and more alone than she’d felt since her father had died, Kayma began to cry, great, heaving sobs that echoed off the ancient redwoods and into the dark, lonely night.

                Suder pressed his cheek to hers. “That’s it,” he crooned. “That’s it.”

                Minutes passed while she gaped at Harry’s mangled body and wept, and Suder pressed against her, catlike. Dimly, she was aware that this was not normal Betazoid behavior. The man must be a touch empath, one who read the emotions of others upon contact. But this reaction, as if he were _feeding_ off her fear, was extreme, even for a touch empath.

                But she had very little energy for these clinical thoughts, not with Suder’s phaser still pressed to the underside of her jaw. Kayma hoped Harry had known how much she had begun to care for him. She hoped Chakotay and her mother and brothers knew how much she loved them.

                Suder finally drew away and pushed her roughly into the back seat of the car. When she was prone, her bound hands pinned between her body and the seat, he placed a gag in her mouth. “Now,” he said softly. “Let’s go find your precious Kathryn Janeway.”

                As they sped north on the Old Cabrillo Highway, Kayma hoped more than anything that she would not die alone.

-END Part 7-


	8. Chapter 8

** Part 8 **

                Every breath, every heartbeat, was fire.

                He’d come to consciousness in the grip of a crushing, burning nightmare of pain that would have made him cry out, but for the flames roaring from the middle of his chest, robbing him of breath.

                Suder had meant to kill him.

                Harry almost wished he had.

                He willed himself to be still, to hold his breath, to force down the panic that made his heart beat wildly, sending hot shards of pain along his every nerve.

                He knew he had to stay calm long enough to help himself before he lost consciousness again.

                He seemed to hear Tuvok’s voice in his head. _Accept the pain_ , the voice said. _Accept it, experience it, and set it aside._

                And then Chakotay’s voice, more strident than Tuvok’s. _Think, Harry. What do you remember? What did you see? What can you tell me?_

                There was something wrong with Suder, something that reminded him of Lon, only worse. More cunning, more calculating.

                The weapon he’d used had been like nothing Harry had ever seen before, in this or any quadrant. Larger than a hand phaser but smaller than a compression rifle, it gave off a blinding red light when fired, but very little noise. Cardassian, maybe? Orion? He didn’t know. But Suder had to have gotten it from somewhere. There must be a supplier. The man surely wasn’t acting alone, not with that kind of weapon in his hands. Whatever it was, it was clearly designed to inflict both maximum damage and maximum pain.

                The need to breathe overtook him. Harry closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and inhaled slowly through his nose.

                It was a mistake.

                The filling of his lungs brought with it the return of the unforgiving pain…and the smell of his own charred flesh.

                Bile rose in his throat and he gagged. The spasm sent fire through him once again. This time he did cry out, shocked by the sound of his own ragged voice in the night. An owl hooted in response.

                Delirious with agony, he wondered if there were dangerous animals in these woods. Rattlesnakes? Black bears? And wouldn’t that be ironic? After all he’d experienced in the Delta Quadrant, he would be torn apart by a mountain lion on a deserted highway on Earth.

                He would have laughed at the strangeness of it all, but he suspected it would kill him.

                _We’re Starfleet officers_ , someone had once said to him. _Weird is part of the job._

                Someone…

                Janeway.

                _She_ was Suder’s target, not him, not Kayma.

 _Kayma_.

                Suder had Kayma in his clutches already, and was surely going after the Admiral next.

                _That’s_ what Chakotay needed to know. And he need to know it now.

                Grunting with effort, ignoring the crushing pain, Harry raised his hand and touched his chest where his comm badge should be.

                Nothing.

                His hand came away bloody, but empty.

                He must have lost it in the struggle with Suder.

                He tried to raise his head to look for it, but the effort was just too much. Panting, retching, fighting back another agonized howl, he let the fire take him.

=/\=

                “Hey, Kathryn . It’s time to wake up.”

                She wriggled away from the gentle hand that was shaking her shoulder.

                There was a soft chuckle, and the hand moved to her cheek. The hand was very warm against her skin. “Come on, now. You’re home. But I’m not carrying you inside. So I need you to wake up, Kathryn.”

 _Home?_ She wasn’t supposed to be home. She was supposed to be at the transport station in Monterey. She must be dreaming. It was a lovely dream, too, of sharing a delicious dinner and a beautiful sunset and a long seaside drive with her closest friend, her kind, good-hearted, handsome friend…

                “I know you’re tired _,_ ” he whispered. “And I meant it when I said I want to give you a place to rest when you need it. But sitting in my car in front of your house was not what I had in mind.” The deep, soft voice was full of warmth and affection.

                _The deep, soft voice_ …

It was the same voice that had encouraged her, supported her, argued with her, cajoled her and soothed her for seven long years. It was a known voice, and welcome…but not the voice she had awakened to these last few weeks.

                She sighed and opened her eyes.

                Chakotay was still seated in the driver’s seat just to her left, peering at her face. She was turned sideways in the passenger seat, curled against the console that separated them.

                “Hi,” she said without moving.

                “Hi.” He stroked her cheek with his fingertips.

                Torn between the desire to lean into his caress and the dim, distant knowledge that she shouldn’t, she nodded toward their familiar positions in the car. “Feels like we’ve been here before, doesn’t it?”

                He smiled and seemed to not notice that he was now playing with a lock of her hair, weaving it through his fingers. “Except I don’t ever recall you falling asleep on the Bridge like this. Did you have a nice nap?”

                “Yes. Sorry about that.”

                He shrugged. “You looked like you could use it.”

                She peeked out the car’s window at the dark, quiet street in front of her townhouse, then met his eyes again. “We seem to have overshot Monterey.”

                He gave her a businesslike nod. “I’ll speak with the Chief Navigator in the morning.”

                She frowned. “Chakotay …”

                He shook his head and brushed the lock of hair away from her face. When his fingers touched her ear, she almost gasped with pleasure. “It was no trouble. I don’t mind.”

                “But it must be close to 2200 hours, and you still have to get home.”

                “Actually, I wanted to give you a chance to rest, so I didn’t hurry.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “It’s just after 2300.”

                Her face fell. “How long will it take you to get back to Big Sur?”

                “About an hour. A little less.”

                She fingered the lining of his jacket, still drawn over her like a blanket. “Do you want to stay?” His eyes darkened, causing her heart to flutter. “My sofa is reasonably comfortable,” she clarified.

                He hesitated but shook his head, at last dropping his hand to his lap. Kathryn missed the contact immediately. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

                She caught her breath at the heated look in his eyes. “Why not?”

                His jaw clenched for an instant and he gave his head a little shake. “Richard,” he said in a low voice.

                _Richard who?_ “Oh.” She turned and leapt out of the car to cover her sudden confusion—and disappointment. “At least let me make you a some coffee first.”

                He stayed where he was. “Are you sure?”

                She whirled and put her hands on her hips. “We’ve been friends for nearly eight years, Chakotay. Surely you can come inside for a cup of coffee without worrying whether someone will  think something sordid. Someone who isn’t even here, I might add.”

                He chuckled. “When you put it that way…” With a soft groan, he unfolded himself from the car, yawned, stretched and followed her into the townhouse.

                As she called for lights, Kathryn experienced an odd moment of panic, afraid that perhaps some trace of Richard’s recent presence still lingered in her house – a padd with his company logo printed on the back or a jacket thrown carelessly over the arm of a chair. But the soft light revealed only her own belongings and mementoes. Richard hadn’t been in these rooms since the night of the wedding, so even the subtle fishy odor he often left behind had had ample time to dissipate, leaving only the light, sweet scents of coffee and chocolate that had always permeated her private living spaces.

                Relieved – but unwilling for the moment to examine precisely _why_ she felt relieved – she hung both her jacket and Chakotay’s on a hook by the door and headed for the kitchen, waving vaguely at the sofa as she passed through the living room.

                “Make yourself at home,” she called over her shoulder, and activated the coffeemaker.

                Aside from that one appliance, which was in near-perpetual use and always kept in good repair, her kitchen showed serious signs of neglect. Mindful of both Chakotay’s neatness and tendency to nag her about her eating habits, she swept aside the half-empty coffee cup and half-pan of brownies that held the leavings of the day’s lunch. At the clatter of dishes she glanced up sharply, concerned that he might have noticed her subterfuge. But he was only wandering around her living room, examining the holos and souvenirs on her walls and shelves, much as she had in his house just a few hours before.

                She wondered if he felt as at home in her space as she had in his.

                Somehow, she had expected to feel awkward in Big Sur. In retrospect, she couldn’t imagine why. Just like his quarters on _Voyager_ had been, his cottage was very much an extension of his personality: Spare and quiet, but with warm, artistic touches that hinted at the gentle and thoughtful part of him that he kept hidden from all but his closest friends. On the ship, she’d been very  much a member of that select company, so much a part of it that she’d rarely had occasion to question her place in his life.

                Until the end of the journey, of course, and in the weeks that followed, when she was not at all convinced she was welcome in his presence, and not certain she wanted to be there anyway.

                His relationship with Seven had shaken her. With the awareness and perspective that come with the passage of time, she could finally admit it to herself, if not to him. The Admiral’s revelation of his marriage to Seven had shocked her to the core, leaving her to mourn the shift in their friendship. _He’s a grown man_ , she had told herself repeatedly, _and you can’t hold him to a vow he should never have made_. _He has every right to try to make a life for himself._

                But deep inside, some still, small voice had grieved for barriers tested but never crossed, words implied but never spoken, promises made but not kept.

                “Decision fatigue,” Kayma had told them both at dinner, and it explained a lot – the changes in all their personalities, not just hers and Chakotay’s, and the suppression of the best parts of themselves as a means of self-preservation. Seven years of stress, seven years of fatigue and pressure and uncertainty, had left them all but unrecognizable to the families they’d left behind, to each other, and worst of all, to themselves. Most of the rest of the crew had readjusted within the first few weeks, but for the two of them, who had shouldered the most burdens and in near-complete isolation, the road back to stability and health had been much longer and rockier.

                Kathryn watched her dearest friend stroll around her living room, touching holos and souvenirs with a fond smile on his face, every bit as comfortable as she’d been in Big Sur. They were both slowly coming back to themselves, and she needn’t have worried about either of them.

                The coffeemaker burbled to life, pulling her from her reverie. “Cream and sugar?” she called to him.

                He laughed and joined her in the kitchen. “It’s only been a few months, Kathryn. Surely you haven’t forgotten already.”

                “Oh, that’s right,” she teased. “You like it black.”

                He pulled open the stasis unit. “Do you even _have_ cream?”

                “No, but feel free to replicate whatever you want.” As she puttered with the coffeemaker and he looked for cream and sugar, the domesticity of the scene was not lost on her.

                “Why a replicator _and_ a dedicated coffeemaker?” he asked.

                She shrugged, watching the coffee pot fill. “It makes a better-tasting cup than replicated. And I like the smell of it as it brews in the morning.”

                “You just don’t like replicators,” he teased. “Or maybe they don’t like you.”

                She swatted him on the arm. “Be nice,” she said, and retrieved a pair of large coffee mugs, but he covered her hand with his.

                “Can you make mine to go?” he asked, and shook his head lightly when her face fell. “As much as I’d like to stay and enjoy this with you, I should get home. Kayma worries about me.”

                Kathryn smiled to mask her disappointment -- another feeling she wasn’t quite ready to examine – and found a large thermal carafe in the cupboard. “Do you want a snack for the trip, too?”

                “I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to one of those brownies you’re trying to hide from me,” he grinned. “If you’re offering.”

                She replicated a tin and tipped the whole pan into it. “Only if you share them with Kayma,” she warned.

                “I promise.”

                With a nod of satisfaction, she turned back to the coffeemaker. “Reset for 0600 hours.”

                “That’s pretty early for a Sunday,” he observed.

                She shrugged and poured the hot coffee into the carafe. “I need to go over some reports and prepare a briefing before brunch with Mom and Phoebe,” she said. _And Richard_ , she remembered suddenly, and bit back a sigh.

                Chakotay frowned. “Don’t you ever just take a day off, Kathryn?”

                Her automatic response, that she was just too busy, faded at the kind, concerned look on his face. “No,” she said, “but I’m going to start making the effort.”

                “That’s all I ask.”

                She pushed the carafe across the countertop to him and watched him dump an obscene amount of cream and sugar into it. “Such a waste,” she clucked, and led him to the door, where she held the carafe and tin while he shouldered into his jacket. “I had a lovely evening,” she said. “Thank you for suggesting it.”

                “Thank you for coming,” he said softly, and retrieved his drink and snack. He ducked his head for a moment, hiding his expression from her. “I was afraid you wouldn’t.”

                “Because I’d turned you down before,” she guessed.

                He hesitated, chin on his chest. “Yes,” he confirmed, and finally looked up at her again. “What made you change your mind?”

                She started to say that it was for Kayma, but knew that it would only be a half-truth. Total honesty between them was long overdue. And total honesty with _herself_ …that had been absent for years. For an instant, she allowed herself to really think about why she didn’t want Chakotay to see another man’s belongings in her house, why she was disappointed he had to go, and how content she’d felt with him all evening. Hoping she hadn’t misread his expression – or the vases of roses in his home – she made a decision, surprised at how easily she’d come to it, and how perfect it felt. She met his warm, bright eyes. “Our timing was never right before,” she said slowly.

                His sudden stillness was so absolute, she thought for an instant he might have stopped breathing. 

                “Chakotay?”

                “But now…” he said in a low voice, “now our timing is right.”

                It wasn’t quite a question, but she felt compelled to answer just the same. “I think it might be. I have some things to take care of first, but…” She reached up and pulled the collar of his jacket closer around his neck. “Join me for lunch next week? You can return the carafe and…we’ll talk.”

                “Talk,” he echoed blankly, and then a slow smile of comprehension lit up his whole face – and the dim entryway of her house, and the many corners of her life that had been dark for far too long. “I’d like that, Kathryn. Very much.”

                It was impossible not to smile when faced with all that unrestrained delight. “Good. I’ll let you know when my schedule’s clear. In the meantime,” she took him by the shoulders and turned him toward the door before she asked him again to stay. “Go home. Give Kayma a hug for me. Drive safely, and don’t eat all the brownies.”

                Chuckling, he let her push him onto her front stoop. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Good-night, Admiral.”

                She gave him one last good shove, just for the use of her rank instead of her name. “Get out, Commander.”

                He hopped down the front steps with a spring in his step that hadn’t been there before and a lively laugh that was completely at odds with the lateness of the hour.  She wondered if her own gladness had been as easy for him to see.

                She waved and smiled when The Falcon rolled down the block and disappeared around the corner and into the night.

                Alone in the house again, she made her way slowly around the room. She followed the path he had taken on his own survey of the space, pausing to gaze at the artifacts that had captured his attention – the book of Robert Browning’s poems he’d once given her for her birthday, a drawing Naomi had sent from Ktaria, a holo of the two of them from Neelix’s luau. They were familiar objects, some of them years old. But they all seemed new to her somehow, too, because they’d been touched by his eyes tonight.

                Half an hour later, coffee in hand, she sank down on her sofa with a sigh. She had reports to read, and a briefing to write. And of course there was Richard, who would arrive at 0800 to beam with her to brunch in Indiana.

                She would have to talk to him.

                Sipping her coffee and staring across the room at the holo from the luau, she wondered which would hurt him less: _I’m afraid I’m just not  attracted to you_ …or _I’m falling in love with another man._

                When the coffee was gone, she rose and ordered the lights off, leaving the living room dark but for a bright beam from the streetlamp outside.

                A bright beam…broken by a shadow sweeping across her front stoop.

                Instantly alert, Kathryn realized several things at once: She had not armed the security system, her comm was pinned to the jacket hanging in the hall, her phaser was hidden upstairs, and the man opening her front door was not Chakotay.           

-END Part 8-


	9. Chapter 9

** Part 9 **

                She’d let her guard down.

                In the split-second it took her to assess the intruder – armed, well under two meters, maybe 75 kilos – Kathryn acknowledged that she should never have allowed herself to be in this position. Starfleet Security had insisted on keeping an armed guard near her for the first couple of months after their return to the Alpha Quadrant. “We’ve received threats,” they told her, but when pressed, no one seemed able to enumerate those threats, or name their source. She fought back, and eventually the guard was dismissed.

                Surveillance equipment and a tech team to install it appeared on her doorstep the next day.

                This time, she went directly to Owen Paris.

                She gave him an earful about the need to balance security with privacy, railed against the constant scrutiny she’d been under since _Voyager_ ’s return, and refused to be watched like a criminal in her own home. Just for good measure, she’d thrown in a handful of the more colorful curses she’d learned in the Delta Quadrant.

                Owen had relented, but only if she promised to keep a working phaser on hand at all times. Since its installation there, that working phaser had never left the middle drawer of her bedside table.

                That’s where it was now. Upstairs, out of reach, while she was standing unprotected in her dark living room with a deadly-looking weapon aimed at her head. If she managed to get out of this alive and uninjured, Owen and Chakotay would probably take turns berating her for being so cavalier about her own safety.

                After she berated herself for letting her guard down, of course, and allowing herself to become so… _distracted_.

                It was the only word to describe the way she’d felt since she’d seen Chakotay at the wedding. _Distracted._ She could divert Richard and Councilman Deegan and John Tenson and all the other men she’d dated lately into a quiet place in her mind where they didn’t bother her when she didn’t want them to. Truthfully, she’d kept Mark in that quiet place for most of their relationship. But Chakotay… Chakotay wouldn’t be diverted anywhere. He’d been at the forefront of her thoughts for a week, a distraction she was not at all certain she could afford.

                She knew she’d been right to hold Chakotay off for all these years. If she’d let herself become so preoccupied while they were still on _Voyager_ , they never would have gotten home. As it was, in her distracted state she’d failed to protect herself from a simple home invasion.

                There was a small – _extremely_ small – chance it was a random act and had nothing to do with her at all. She doubted it…but the ruse was worth a try. “Take whatever you want,” she said in a small, shaky voice. “Don’t hurt me.”

                The intruder guffawed.

                 Kathryn straightened and raised her chin. “Fine,” she ground out. “Who are you and what do you want from me?”

                 “You, of course.” He took a step into the pool of light from the streetlamp. “Just you, Kathryn Janeway.”

                She finally got a good look at him…and felt the color drain from her face. “Suder,” she breathed. Most of her deceased crew’s relatives had accepted her condolences with the understanding that she’d done everything she could to keep their loved ones alive during their journey through the Delta Quadrant. A few had not. This man, Lon Suder’s brother, had rebuffed her attempts to reach out to him, countering instead with accusations and demands. “Brant Suder,” she said.

                He laughed again, an eerie, dangerous sound in the half-light. “That’s right.”

                Over the summer, Brant had tried to contact her office twice, requesting an audience to discuss the circumstances of his brother’s death, her personal complicity in it, and his demands for compensation. She’d replied with her regrets and referred both requests to the Judge Advocate General’s office, just as she had similar requests from Mike Jonas’s father, Lyndsay Ballard’s family, and Rudy Ransom’s estate.

                “Killing me won’t bring Lon back,” she said.

                He nodded once. “True. And as much as it might make me feel better, it won’t solve my problem.”

                “What problem?”

                “With Chakotay.” He took another step toward her, brandishing the weapon in his right hand. “My brother should never have been in the Maquis. He needed help. But Chakotay dragged him into service so he could use him. Abducted him, and then got him lost with you.”

                She raised her chin. “Lon saved the ship. He died a hero.”

                “But he’s still dead,” Brant snapped. “And he shouldn’t be.” He waved the weapon at her. “I mean to return the favor. Show Chakotay what it feels like when someone he loves disappears without a trace.”

                So. She was to be taken alive and used as bait. Now that she knew he had no intention of killing her with it, the weapon in his hand seemed a lot less menacing.

                Kathryn gritted her teeth…and attacked.

                Suder had a good 15 centimeters and 20 kilos on her, but she had Starfleet training and the element of surprise on her side. She twisted ninety degrees to her right so that her body was perpendicular to his and struck out with her left hand in the same motion, knocking Suder’s weapon arm in toward his own midsection. Before he had time to react, she grabbed the hand holding the weapon and bent his wrist in further, so that the phaser was actually pointed at _him_ instead of her.

Basic weapon defense. It was all coming back to her in a flash. Tuvok would be so proud.

                Suder cursed and grabbed at her with his left hand, but with his right wrist bent at a painful angle and the weapon digging into his own gut, he couldn’t turn far enough to get a grip on anything but the back of her sweater. Kathryn twisted his weapon arm up and out until she felt his elbow and wrist pop with the strain.

                The next steps of the maneuver flew through her mind in a rush. Step through, hook the knee, takedown, elbow to the throat, disarm, call for help.

                The step-through was easy enough. She was quick and small and didn’t require a lot of room to work. With his weapon hand still bent and twisted, she turned toward him, stepped over his left foot with her right and hooked her leg around his for the takedown. He overbalanced and began to fall backwards, just as he was supposed to.

                But in the darkness, she’d miscalculated his distance to the wall.

                Instead of crashing to the floor, Suder slammed backwards into the wall. A pair of holos clattered to the floor at his feet.

                Alarmed now, Kathryn kept her hold on his arm and quickly turned until her back was to his chest with the weapon still pointed away from her, but she was off-balance and he had all the leverage. He yanked his arm up and away from her.

                Before she could get her feet under her again he’d closed both arms around her and pulled her close to his body, pinning her arms next to her sides. She struggled to wriggle down and out of his grasp, but his hold was too strong. The butt of the weapon dug into her ribcage and she groaned.

                Then, before she knew what was happening, he’d bent her forward from the waist and pressed his cheek to hers in an almost caress. She recoiled.

                Suder hummed in her ear. “Terror is intoxicating,” he whispered. “Isn’t it?”

                Confused, she stiffened in his foul embrace. What did he mean to do to her before he used her as bait? What would enrage Chakotay the most? Her mouth went dry.

                He laughed. “I’m not going to hurt you, Kathryn,”  he purred. He turned the weapon so the barrel was pressed against her chest. “But I’m not very familiar with this weapon. I _think_ it’s set to stun, but it did make a very impressive hole in your Lieutenant Kim.”

                Kathryn stopped struggling.

                Suder pulled the weapon slightly away from her. “Maybe I should test the weapon on the girl,” he said.

                “What girl?” Kathryn whispered.

                He pressed his forehead to the back of her neck. “Chakotay’s…daughter. Niece. Whoever she is.” Kathryn went rigid in his grasp, horrified. He’d hurt Harry…and he had _Kayma_.

                Suder sighed against her skin. “That’s it,” murmured. “Let yourself feel the rage…”

                Kathryn breathed as deeply as she could while trapped in his arms, forcing her emotions to quiet. She suspected that, like his brother, Brant had a disorder that had compromised his normal Betazed telepathy. Unlike Lon, however, he could sense emotions while in close contact with someone. A touch-empath. While he had his hands on her, she had to rein in her feelings as much as possible. “What have you done with Kayma?” she asked calmly.

                “She’s outside waiting for us, Kathryn,” Suder said, and pressed his cheek to hers again. She forced herself to not react. “I like her,” he purred. His lips brushed her ear and she flinched at the contact. “Her terror is even more intoxicating than yours.”

                Sick dread descended on Kathryn. Without training to fall back on, or likely any experience to compare to this one, Kayma must be terrified. Kathryn had no doubt that Suder would kill the girl if pushed to it. If Kathryn could get to her, she had a better chance of surviving this ordeal. “All right,” she said. “I’m the one you want. Leave the girl here and I’ll go with you willingly,” she offered first, not expecting it to work.

                “Now that she’s seen me? I don’t think so.” He laughed his low, dangerous laugh. “Maybe I’ll make him choose which one of you to save.” She gasped. “How do you think he’ll live with that choice? If he chooses you, do you think he’ll ever be able to love you? And if he chooses her, will he ever be the same?”

                Kathryn saw red. She knew from bitter experience that it was not a choice anyone should ever have to make—and not one Chakotay _could_ make, probably, any more than she could. Enraged, she  jerked and fought against his grasp. His only response was to hold her tighter. Suder’s chest rumbled behind her. He turned them both around and shoved her away from him, slamming her face-first into the wall. Kathryn saw stars and felt blood trickle from her nose. “I’ll take you both,” Suder growled in her ear.

                With his bigger body he pinned her to the wall. He slipped a strip of cloth around her mouth and tied it roughly at the back of her head, gagging her. Then he grabbed a handful of her hair and pointed her at the two fallen holos. “Pick them up,” he ordered, the business end of the phaser jammed between her shoulder blades.

                She retrieved the holos and rehung them. She reversed them on purpose, hoping that whoever came to find them would notice the images’ changed positions. Of course, that presumed their rescuer was familiar enough with her belongings to know when something was out of place. She doubted Richard ever paid that much attention, but he wasn’t the only person who’d been in her house recently.

                Suder took another look around the room, no doubt searching for other signs of his intrusion. Kathryn followed his gaze; there were none. He’d never gotten beyond the dim entryway.

                Satisfied, he pushed her back against the wall and bound her hands in front of her with another strip of rough cloth. Even in the dimness, Kathryn recognized the pattern. The cloth was cut from one of Chakotay’s coats, the one Harry had been wearing when he left Big Sur with Kayma. Suder grabbed a jacket from the hook by her door – not the one with her comm on it, unfortunately – and draped it over her hands to hide the binding. Then he pushed her out the front door and down the front steps to where her own Starfleet groundcar waited. Suder opened the door and shoved Kathryn into the car next to the figure slumped in the back seat. As he slid into the driver’s seat, fat raindrops began to fall on the front window.

                Wide-eyed and terrified, Kayma fell bodily on Kathryn, pressing her face into the curve of Kathryn’s neck, moving closer, seeking comfort. Kathryn turned far enough to hide behind the girl. From there it was an easy maneuver to lift her bound hands, hook a finger under the gag and pull it down to her chin. While she waited for Suder to start the car, she wiped the blood away from her nose. Then she pressed her face to Kayma’s ear.

                “Make noise,” she whispered. Kayma started suddenly, but obeyed. She began to sob in earnest; Kathryn wasn’t entirely certain it was an act. She trusted the sound of the girl’s sobs, the hum of the car’s engine and the rain falling on the roof to cover her voice.

                “I need to get as much information as possible, as fast as possible.” She touched her foot to Kayma’s. “One for yes, two for no. Understand?”

                Kayma slid her bound feet across the floor of the car to Kathryn’s. _Tap._

                “Good.” She pulled Kayma’s head slightly away from her and peered through the darkness at her tear-stained, scraped face. “Are you hurt anywhere I can’t see?”

                _Tap._ The girl wriggled her hands behind her back.

                Kathryn glanced down and saw that the metal cuffs had torn into her wrists, leaving behind thin, oozing lacerations. She glanced at her own makeshift bonds. Clearly, Suder had only prepared for one hostage, a bit of information she might be able to use later.

                She pulled Kayma close to her again. “Can you feel your hands and feet?”

                _Tap._

                The cuffs weren’t cutting off her circulation, at least. “There must be a remote device for those. Does he keep it on his person?”

                _Tap._

                “Did you have a comm when you left the house?”

                Kayma sniffled. _Tap tap._

                Kathryn took a deep breath. “Was Harry hurt?”

                _TAP._

                “Was he alive?”

                _Tap…tap tap._ This time, the sob was definitely real.

                Kathryn stilled. “You don’t know but it looked bad.”

                _Tap._

                “Did he have his comm?”

                Kayma hesitated, then: _Tap._

                Kathryn nodded. Harry hadn’t been wearing a coat when they arrived at Chakotay’s house, and she remembered seeing his comm on his shirt while they were sitting at dinner. Even if he was hurt and unable to respond, if he still had the comm he could be found.

                “Do you think I was the intended target?”

                _Tap._

                Kathryn closed her eyes and buried her face in Kayma’s thick hair for a small, stolen moment. Harry and Kayma were both blameless in whatever game Suder was playing, innocent bystanders caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Probably the only thing that had kept Kayma alive and relatively uninjured so far was her relationship to Chakotay.

                “Does Suder have a comm?”

                Kayma’s head snapped up and she gasped. Kathryn quickly pulled her back down, hoping Suder hadn’t noticed the sudden movement or heard the sound over the pounding of the rain. He didn’t flinch. Thank goodness for subpar Starfleet soundproofing. “Yes, I know this man. Did Harry recognize him, too?”

                _Tap._ Good. Very good. Harry would be able to identify the man…if he was still alive. Kathryn shoved that distraction into the far corner of her mind. Kayma was her priority now.

                “Has he spoken with anyone else?”

                _Tap._

                So Suder wasn’t working alone. She’d already surmised as much; given the amount of time she spent alone in her townhouse and how thoroughly she’d let her guard down, Suder could probably have taken her whenever he wanted to. The fact that he’d chosen this particular night, when the abduction required far more time and effort than a simple home invasion would have, told her that the operation had probably been timed to coincide with a rendezvous. Given that he’d driven at least partway to Big Sur in an effort to find her and had had to divert back to San Francisco, he was probably already running behind schedule – another bit of information that might prove useful, especially if Suder got careless in his haste.

                Kathryn racked her brain for clues as to who might be helping him, and why. Most of Chakotay’s Maquis comrades were dead or scattered, so Kathryn doubted it was anything to do with him, other than his connection to Lon Suder. It was possible that Suder was a patsy, his desire for vengeance being put to use by someone with an even wider, more nefarious purpose. The occupation of Betazed had left a power vacuum in its wake, but as far as she knew there were no terrorist cells working off the planet. On the other hand, there seemed to always be someone out there who thought a high-ranking hostage would be a wonderful bargaining chip…even though it rarely worked.

                “Do you know where he’s taking us?”

                _Tap tap._

                Kathryn let out a slow breath and reviewed the situation. They were to be used as bait for Chakotay but probably delivered to someone else, someone who might be after _her_ instead of her former First Officer, or possibly both of them. Suder might or might not be privy to that part of the plan. They had no comm and no weapon, and no idea where Suder was taking them. Kayma, hands and feet bound with cuffs that required a remote or key to unlock, was practically immobile. Suder’s weapon was like nothing Kathryn had ever seen before, and if Kayma’s assessment was accurate, very dangerous.

                All in all, she’d been in far worse predicaments.

                Kathryn started to pull the gag back into place when she noticed Kayma shuddering against her.  The poor girl didn’t realize that, as always, Kathryn had an ace in the hole.

                She pulled Kayma close to her, wishing she could take the girl in her arms without attracting Suder’s attention. “You know Chakotay will be worried when you don’t come home,” she said, and in spite of everything, Kayma snorted. _TAP._

                “He’ll probably try to contact Harry, and then Tom and B’Elanna,” Kathryn continued. “They’ll trace Harry’s comm and find him. Then they’ll pull in Owen Paris. And Tuvok.” _And Mike Ayala and Seven and Sam Wildman. Sue Nicoletti and Philicia and Hoke and Noah Lessing and Vorik and every other member_ Voyager’s _crew who happens to be anywhere on the planet—or in the entire damn system._ “They’ll be able to track this car back to my house. When he gets there, Chakotay will realize I’ve been taken, too.”

                Kayma began to relax against her. “He’ll come for us,” Kathryn said with conviction. “Until then, we have to stay focused and alert so we can help him when he gets to us. Can you do that, sweetheart?” Kayma drew a shaky breath. _Tap_.

                Kathryn gave her one last squeeze, the closest thing to a hug she could manage in this small space and with her hands bound. “Chakotay will find us. He won’t let anything happen to us if he can help it.” Kathryn pulled the gag back into place and tried to move away, but Kayma’s head stayed on her shoulder. So Kathryn wriggled around to let the girl lean on her for comfort, and stared out the window into the rainy darkness. They drove out of her neighborhood, crossed the Golden Gate Bridge, and headed north out of the city.

                The rain continued to pound on the car. Half an hour passed. An hour. Kayma’s breathing evened and slowed as she fell into an exhausted sleep. Kathryn searched the night for familiar landmarks, but she’d spent too little time in the area surrounding the city. Most of her life took place within a tiny triangle inscribed by her townhouse, her office, and her favorite café – and Sunday trips to Bloomington, Indiana, more than 3,600 kilometers away. Maybe Chakotay had the right idea with his insistence on driving everywhere instead of transporting. At least he got to know the terrain.

                She knew in her bones that everything she’d told Kayma was true. Yes, Chakotay was a distraction. A welcome distraction, a kind, caring and loyal distraction who was fiercely protective of  the people he loved. As soon as he figured out what had happened, Chakotay would come for them.

                And he would rain holy hell down on whoever was responsible for this.

-END Part 9-


	10. Chapter 10

** Part 10 **

                He’d let himself get soft.

                Sitting on the end of his bed and staring out the window into the stormy darkness, Chakotay suspected that these many months of standing in front of classrooms had caused him to lose his edge.

                Standing in front of classrooms…and something else.

                Rain pounded on the roof of his house, a harsh percussion accompaniment to his troubling thoughts. He’d driven home from San Francisco in a happy haze, overflowing with hopes of starting a new life, finally, with Kathryn. She hadn’t promised him anything specific, and that was so typical of her that he’d let it pass. “Our timing was never right before,” she’d said, and even though it wasn’t much, it was the first time she’d ever admitted that there was something between them which might suffer from bad timing.

                He’d received her words like a schoolboy learning that the prettiest girl in class had finally noticed his existence. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so giddy. Kathryn would have laughed at his sudden glee. She would probably have said he simply wasn’t used to her coffee anymore, so strong it could almost get up and dance on its own.

                By the time The Falcon reached the end of the lane from the highway to his house, he’d convinced himself he was the happiest man alive. Even though it was nearly 0100, he’d bounded up the porch steps and into the house intending to find Kayma and tell her everything about Kathryn. _Everything._ He’d offer the talk he’d put off a week before, get her opinion, let her forthrightness and dry sense of humor bring him back to reality so that when Kathryn finally summoned him for the promised lunch, he’d be ready with a clear head and an open heart.

                But the house was dark, and Kayma wasn’t home.

                He made himself a cup of calming chamomile tea and sat down on the sofa to wait for her, Kathryn’s copy of Dante’s _Inferno_ open on his knees.

                When the first raindrops began to fall, he’d built a small fire to ward off the dampness and moved to his favorite chair near the cheerful little flame.

                At 0215, when the storm really began to rage, he’d crept into her room to make sure he hadn’t missed her in the dark. He hadn’t. He paced the length of the hallway from her room to his and back to the kitchen twice, comm in hand, arguing with himself. She was young, but an adult nevertheless. At her age, he’d already been on his own for almost eleven years, had completed two deep-space tours and was deciding whether or not to stay in space or go back to the Academy for another degree. Kayma had led a far more sheltered childhood than he, but she was smart and observant and just as competent in her own way. He had no reason to check up on her. She could take care of herself.

                Furthermore, she was with Harry, one of the most upstanding and trustworthy men Chakotay had ever known. They were probably just having fun and had lost track of the time. He’d been young once himself. He could remember—barely—what it was like to be out on his own with a beautiful girl, away from his responsibilities, away from nosy elders who might disapprove if he tried to…

                He ground his teeth and activated the comm. “Chakotay to Kayma.”

                Nothing.

                He began to pace again, scowling at the little device in the palm of his hand as if it could reveal Kayma’s whereabouts, if only he stared at it hard enough. It didn’t. He sighed and closed the channel.

                There was an answering chirp from Kayma’s room.

                With a sinking feeling, he called for lights and reactivated his comm. “Chakotay to Kayma?”

                _Chirp_.

                Damn. Why did he even bother to provide her with a comm if she never took it with her when she went out?

                He toyed with the idea of contacting Harry instead, but if their positions were reversed, if he were the young man out with his former CO’s pretty relative, would he welcome the intrusion? No, he would not. He liked to think he would have called the CO himself to check in, but he knew better.

                At 0230, he trudged to his bedroom, kicked off his boots and sprawled on the bed.

                At 0247, he stalked to the kitchen and poured himself a drink.

                At 0322, with his feet stretched toward the dying fire and an empty glass balanced on the arm of his chair, he fell into a fitful sleep.

                He awoke two hours later with a dry mouth, a shooting pain in his left hip, and an awful certainty that something was wrong. Surely Harry would have called, no matter how embarrassed, to let him know he and Kayma would not be returning until morning. Chakotay limped to his bedroom, rubbing his hip all the way, and retrieved his comm.

                “Chakotay to Kim.”

                Nothing.

                He sat down on the end of his bed to think.

                Sunset this time of year was around 1915 hours, give or take a few minutes. Harry and Kayma had left the house half an hour before. Kayma hadn’t specifically said where they were going, but Chakotay suspected they would have headed to a quiet and secluded beach a few kilometers south of his house. They’d probably stayed on the beach after sunset, although Chakotay refused think about what they might have been doing there, then they might have gone for tacos at the little restaurant she liked. Maybe coffee or drinks afterwards as the storm clouds began to roll in. Dancing? Possibly. He couldn’t imagine Harry was much of a dancer, but Chakotay knew from experience that Kayma could talk anyone into almost anything, and Harry had a weakness for pretty girls to begin with.

                By his conservative estimate, they would have set out for his house at 2200 or so, after he and Kathryn were long gone. The more he thought about it, the more he was certain Harry would have let him know if they had decided to go back to San Francisco together. Chakotay should have called as soon as he’d gotten home and realized Kayma was still out. But in his starry-eyed fog, he hadn’t wanted to intrude on the young peoples’ romantic evening.

                Soft. He’d let himself get soft.

                This feeling was exactly why he’d been right to never press Kathryn harder for a different kind of relationship while they were still in the Delta Quadrant. She brought him peace, but perhaps too much of that peace dulled and relaxed his instincts. In a part of the Universe that was constantly trying to kill them, he couldn’t afford to lose that edge.

                Apparently, he couldn’t afford to lose it here in the Alpha Quadrant, either.

                An hour before sunrise, he sat down in front of the house’s comm and punched in the code to Harry’s apartment, not expecting an answer.

                He didn’t get one.

                He replaced it with Tom and B’Elanna’s code and waited. Two minutes later, Tom’s face appeared. He had dark circles under his eyes and his fair hair was standing on end. _“Paris here,”_ he sighed.

                Chakotay didn’t bother with niceties. “When’s the last time you talked to Harry?”

                Tom scowled. _“Do you know what time it is?”_

                Chakotay glanced at the antique clock on the wall. “It’s 0550. When’s the last time you talked to Harry?”

                _“It’s 0550 on a Sunday morning, Chakotay.”_

                “I know that.”

                _“Miral’s teething. We just got her to go back to sleep an hour ago.”_

                Chakotay ran a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, Tom, but I think we may have an emergency.”

                _“Involving Harry?”_

                “And Kayma.”

                Tom leaned toward the screen, instantly alert. _“Fill me in.”_

                “Harry and Kathryn came down for dinner yesterday. At about 1830, Harry and Kayma left to go watch the sunset. They never came back.”

                Tom cocked his head to one side. _“Where’s the Admiral?”_

                “I drove her back to San Francisco in The Falcon. Harry and Kayma were in her Starfleet car.”

                _“Have you tried his comm?”_

                Chakotay nodded. “And his apartment.”

                Tom smirked. _“Maybe  he’s just avoiding angry Papa Bear.”_

                Chakotay grimaced. _You’re definitely getting soft, Chakotay._ “Could you try?”

                Tom smiled. _“I’m sure everything’s fine. Just a minute.”_

                Drumming his fingers on the desk, Chakotay watched Tom move out of the screen’s range and return with his comm in hand. _“Paris to Kim,”_ he said.

                They waited. Tom gave him a sympathetic glance. “They’re probably still in—“

                “Don’t, Paris,” Chakotay growled.

                _“Right. Sorry.”_ Tom tapped the comm again.

                “Try the apartment,” Chakotay said.

                _“Will do. Hang on.”_

                Chakotay’s screen went blank for a full minute. When Tom appeared again, he looked as worried as Chakotay felt. _“No answer.”_

                “But the signal is going through?”

                Tom shrugged. _“As far as I can tell.”_

                B’Elanna’s voice entered the conversation. _“As far as you can tell what?”_ She yawned and sat down next to Tom, who quickly brought her up to speed.

                B’Elanna nodded. _“Want me to scan for the comm?”_

                Chakotay’s eyebrows rose. The scan would have been an easy matter from her office in the Starfleet Engineering Complex. But from their house in San Francisco? “Can you do that from there?”

                She rolled her eyes and tapped the console, activating a second screen at the side of the desk. _“Can I do that from here,”_ she scoffed. _“Don’t forget who you’re talking to, Chakotay.”_

                He looked at Tom. “How can she do that from there?”

                Tom gave him a tight smile. _“I try not to ask too many questions.”_

                Where B’Elanna and technology were concerned, that was probably a wise policy. Chakotay forced himself to be calm while B’Elanna did whatever she was doing. When she drew in a sharp breath and frowned, his fists clenched under the desk. “Did you find it?”

                _“Where did they go when they left your house?”_ she asked.

                “To a beach she likes. From there, I’m not sure.”

                B’Elanna turned worried brown eyes on him. _“Chakotay…if these coordinates are correct, Harry’s comm is just a couple kilometers away from you.”_

                Tom peered over her shoulder, scanned the information on the side screen and nodded. _“She’s right. Looks like it’s two klicks and change south, right on the highway.”_

                Chakotay’s heart raced. “Can you scan for life signs?”

                B’Elanna bit her lip. _“I’ll have to re-route the scan through the relay in the Bio Sciences building, and—“_

                Chakotay shook his head. “Don’t tell me how, I don’t want to know. Just do it.”

                B’Elanna started tapping a series of commands into the console. _“Yes, sir,”_ she said.

                Chakotay grabbed a padd off the desk and waved it at Tom. “Send me the coordinates, Lieutenant.”

                _“Aye, sir.”_ Chakotay noted that they’d all fallen back on their training, now that a crisis was at hand, and a rush of adrenaline had snapped his mind into sharp focus. Maybe he wasn’t as soft as he’d feared. The coordinates appeared on his padd and he started to rise, but Tom’s voice stopped him. _“Sir? Should I request a site-to-site?”_

                Chakotay shook his head. “By the time you get it arranged I can be there in The Falcon. But keep a lock on my comm and Harry’s, and start putting the request through just in case.”

_“Destination?”_

                Chakotay’s throat tightened. “Starfleet Medical. And have someone activate the Doc.”

                Tom paled. “ _You think they’ve had a wreck?”_

                “It’s the simplest explanation. The comm’s working but they’re too injured to answer.”

                Tom nodded in agreement. _“Aye, sir. We’ll keep you on comm.”_

                “Acknowledged.” Chakotay deactivated the desktop comm system, fetched his boots and dashed across his muddy yard to The Falcon. He pulled onto the Old Cabrillo Highway just as the first birds began to chirp in anticipation of the sunrise.

                The highway was deserted in the foggy pre-dawn. He raced The Falcon the first two kilometers and slowed when he got near the coordinates, scanning the watery half-light for Kathryn’s car, but saw nothing. He glanced at the coordinates again and got out of the car, wishing he had a tricorder. He should be right on top of Harry’s comm badge, but he couldn’t see anything – and Kathryn’s car was nowhere in sight.

                “Lieutenant Paris?” he called.

_“Here, sir.”_

                Chakotay wiped rain out of his eyes and squinted. “It’s too hard to see out here. I’m going to have to cut you off and try Harry’s comm.”

_“Acknowledged. Paris out.”_

                Chakotay tapped his comm. “Chakotay to Kim.”

                The answering chirp sounded like it came from just a few meters away. Chakotay jogged toward it, tapping his badge repeatedly and following the answering sounds.

                He saw the body before he saw the comm.

                “Oh, Harry,” he groaned.

                The young man lay sprawled on his back, a bloody, angry hole the size of Chakotay’s fist in the middle of his chest. Phaser at close range? He dropped beside the Lieutenant, trying to ignore the smear of mud and blood he was kneeling in, and looked at the wound again. Even at point-blank range and set to kill, a conventional phaser wouldn’t have done this much damage to the body. This wound was like nothing he’d ever encountered, not even in the Maquis.

                 Hands shaking, Chakotay reached for Harry’s pulse point and his own comm at the same time, scanning the ground around him for Kayma.

                The comm chirped before he could touch it. _“Paris to Chakotay.”_

                “Beam Harry out, Tom!” Chakotay shouted, his voice echoing off the surrounding trees and scaring up a chorus of birdsong . He finally detected the younger man’s weak and thready pulse. “He’s alive, but barely. You’ve got to get him to the Doc right away!”

                _“Aye. We’ll take you both,”_ Tom replied quickly and calmly, a voice Chakotay had heard many times before when Tom’s medic training had taken over.

                “No!” Chakotay found Harry’s comm and fastened it to the Lieutenant’s belt. “I need to look for Kayma.”

                _“She’s not there, Chakotay,”_ B’Elanna said. _“I only found one lifesign: Harry’s. If it was a wreck, she—“_

                Chakotay’s whole body slumped. “It wasn’t a wreck. Somebody attacked them. Harry’s been shot at close range. Kayma and the car are gone.” He swallowed hard. Tom and B’Elanna both gasped. “Beam Harry out now. Give me one more minute to look things over and meet me at Starfleet Medical as soon as you can.”

_“Acknowledged. Stand by.”_

                The first rays of sunlight touched the redwoods nearby. In the momentary brightness, Chakotay saw a flash at the side of the highway: A nondescript silver groundcar, hidden in the brush.

                He needed to come back with a tricorder. Better yet, he’d send Tuvok and Seven. If there were more clues here, they would find them.

                While he waited for Harry’s beam out, he stood and turned slowly on the spot, every instinct active and alert. He committed the crime scene to memory like the Doc with his holocamera.

                Harry with a hole in his chest. _Click._

                Kayma no longer on the scene. _Click._

                No sign of the Starfleet car. _Click._

An unmarked car abandoned in the woods. _Click._

                There was a telltale hum, and Harry disappeared.          

                He quickly summarized what he knew and made a few tentative conjectures.

                One: He never saw other cars on the Cabrillo Highway, especially so late at night. The attack probably wasn’t random, and whoever had the car likely had Kayma, too.

                Two: The attacker had shot Harry and left him behind. He wasn’t the target. As far as Chakotay knew, Kayma didn’t have an enemy in the Universe. She couldn’t be the target, either, but now she was a hostage.

                Three: The attacker had hidden the unmarked car and taken the Starfleet car. But when? After the attack? That would mean the attacker was in a hurry. Kathryn’s car was covered with ‘Fleet markings, and would be virtually impossible to disguise. But it was undoubtedly faster than the civilian car. If time were of the essence, the effort to make the swap was a gamble that made sense.

                Four: But if the attacker had hidden the car _before_ Harry and Kayma came along, he must have known they were coming. But how? Was the _car itself_ the target? And how would the attacker have known it would be there? Kathryn had requisitioned it for the day, but she wasn’t required to leave an itinerary for that kind of vehicle.

                _Kathryn._

                Oh, Spirits.

                Kathryn was the target. But the attacker had missed her and taken Kayma instead.

                If the beam hadn’t caught him at that instant, Chakotay’s knees would have buckled.

                Kayma was missing, and Kathryn was in danger.

                Someone was trying to get to _him._

=/\=

                When Tom was certain the transport was complete, he flicked off the comm system and stood up, intending to get Miral ready to go to Starfleet Medical. But B’Elanna continued to tinker with the side console. He tried not to watch; like Chakotay, he had no desire to know how she was doing what she was doing, as long as it kept working for them.

                “What are you looking for now?” he asked.

                She gave her head a small shake. “Just making sure there’s no other life sign at those coordinates.”

                Tom closed his eyes. “If there were a body…”

                “I’d detect it. She’s not there.”

                “Why would someone shoot Harry?”

                “I don’t know.” She deactivated her console. “But the real question is, why would someone shoot Harry, take Kayma and steal the Admiral’s car?”

                Tom ran a hand through his hair. Something about the whole thing didn’t feel right. “The Admiral’s car…” he murmured. “But Harry and Kayma were in it.”

                “So maybe that’s why he was shot. Maybe the attacker expected it to be…” The color drained from her face.

                “Admiral Janeway. She was the target. They missed her. Shit.”

                “But if someone’s trying to get to Chakotay…”

                “Kayma would be just as valuable a hostage.” Tom sank back down at the desk. “A car like that would have a tracking system on it, wouldn’t it?”

                B’Elanna stared at him with wide eyes. “Yes, but I can’t pull that data or scan for it from here,” she said slowly, chewing her lip. “Not without the specific tracking frequency on the car. We don’t have clearance for that information.”

                Tom reached for the comm. “ _We_ don’t. But my Dad does.”

=/\=

                They drove for hours while Kayma dozed restlessly and Kathryn searched the night for a glimpse of anything familiar. Twice, she leaned over to peer at the car’s dashboard. Its high-tech engine continued to purr, but eventually the power supply would dwindle and they’d have to stop.

                Suder was silent for the entire trip, neither receiving nor initiating calls. Kathryn assumed that he’d had no qualms about talking to his contacts in front of Kayma, who probably wouldn’t be able to glean anything useful from the conversation. He seemed to be much more careful now that he had an Admiral in tow.

                His weapon lay across the front passenger seat, where Kathryn could neither see nor reach it. During the abduction, she’d noticed only that it was not a Starfleet-style weapon.

                Slowly, trying not to jostle Kayma too much or attract Suder’s attention, she wriggled her wrists to loosen the binding. She was certain she’d be able to get it off with a little more effort. If she had been alone with Suder, she would have removed it already and made another play for control of the weapon. But taking a tactical gamble would put Kayma in more danger, and that, she could not abide. So she contented herself with working the binding so that, if a time to act presented itself, she’d be able to get her hands free.

                The work had the welcome side effect of keeping her awake. Kayma was better off getting a bit of rest, however fitful, but Kathryn couldn’t afford to sleep and miss a crucial detail that might help get them out of this mess.

                Without warning, Suder slowed and stopped the car. Kathryn craned her neck to see out the front window. In the pre-dawn light she made out a group of people standing at the side of the road, each one armed with a weapon similar to Suder’s. They met in front of the car and conducted a quick and quiet conversation. Among them she noted a couple of Andorians and an Orion, and three people who could have been Human, Betazed or Bajoran. It was still too dark to tell.

                Kathryn nudged Kayma awake. The girl sat up quickly and shook her head as if to clear it. Kathryn nodded to the figures outside. Kayma swallowed hard and nodded back.

                Suder opened the back door and leaned in. “We’re here, ladies,” he sneered. “But I’m afraid that’s all you can know for now.” He raised his hand and pressed a hypo to Kathryn’s neck.

                Spirits sinking, she tried to knock his hands away but knew it was a fruitless effort. He grabbed her head and rammed the hypo home. On the other side of the car, a shadowy figure did the same to Kayma.

                _So much for focused and alert,_ she thought, and surrendered to unconsciousness.

-END Part 10-


	11. Chapter 11

** Part 11 **

                _Kayma missing. Kathryn in danger._

                The organized commotion of the Starfleet Medical emergency center shimmered and solidified before Chakotay’s eyes. Doctors and nurses of every size and shape, all in blue uniforms  and carrying padds. Medics pushing antigrav stretchers. Crisp antiseptic smells, quietly intense voices, bright-white lights, the background beep and whirr of medical equipment.

                It all leapt up for his attention and assaulted his heightened senses.

                _Kayma missing. Kathryn in danger._

                He slapped his comm. “Chakotay to Janeway.”

                Nothing.

                He charged down from the transporter pad and crossed to the triage station in two long, powerful strides. “That Lieutenant who just arrived — Lieutenant Kim?”

                The young Ensign at the station looked up. “Are you Commander Chakotay?”

                “Yes.”

                She hooked a thumb toward the bank of lifts behind her. “The EMH just took Mister Kim to surgery. Sixth floor.” Chakotay took a step in that direction, but the woman stopped him with a look. “He said he’d comm you as soon as he knows something, and you should stay out of his hair. So to speak.”

                Chakotay took a fast step toward her, but she held up her hands in a placating gesture. “I’m just the messenger, sir.”

                He took a deep breath, gathering himself and fighting to maintain his focus.

                _Kayma missing. Kathryn in danger._

                “I want a security team on Lieutenant Kim immediately. Do whatever you have to do. My authority.”

                The young woman began punching commands into her console. “Aye, sir.”

                “Harry’s parents live in South Carolina. They need to be notified.”

                She nodded. “Right away, sir.”

                “And I need a secure comm station.”

                She pointed to a set of double doors to her left. “There’s a fully equipped tactical suite just through those doors.”

                He headed that way. “Lieutenants Tom and B’Elanna Paris will be beaming in shortly. Send them in.”

                “Aye, sir.”

                He strode through the double doors and paused for the retinal scan that confirmed his clearance. As promised, the tactical suite was packed tight with communications, sensor and ops equipment, all linked back to Starfleet Security and Command in the event of a widespread medical emergency. It looked almost like a miniature version of _Voyager_ ’s Bridge, minus the command chairs and main viewscreen. Chakotay sat down at the comm station and punched in the code for Kathryn’s house, memorized in a sentimental moment but never used.

                When there was no answer, he tried her office comm. Still no answer.

                He slammed his fist against the console.

                _Kayma missing. Kathryn in danger._

                His comm badge beeped to life. _“Paris to Chakotay.”_

                “Chakotay here. Report, Tom.”

                _“We’re at my parents’ house. B’Elanna’s getting Miral settled.”_ The younger man paused. _“Commander, if the car was requisitioned in Admiral Janeway’s name—”_

                “I’ve already tried her,” Chakotay said. “She’s not at home or in her office, and she’s not answering her comm.”

                _“Shit,”_ Tom hissed. _“Dad’s trying to get the tracking data on the car. We can backtrack and figure out where the attacker went after Big Sur.”_

                “Tell Owen to send the data to the tactical suite in the Starfleet Medical emergency wing. And get here as fast as you can.”

                B’Elanna’s voice answered. _“Aye, sir. We’ll bring Admiral Paris, too.”_

                Chakotay nodded. “Good work, both of you.” He deactivated his comm, set a side console to receive the data stream, and activated the secure comm with the codes for Starfleet Officer Housing. Tuvok and his family were still on the planet visiting colleagues after Celes and Billy’s wedding. So were Mike Ayala, Sue Nicoletti, Philicia, Vorik, Hoke…a double handful of _Voyager’s_ crew. As soon as they knew what had happened, they would surely place themselves at his disposal.

                The comm screen lit up with Tuvok’s image. The Vulcan looked like he’d been awake for hours, not roused just past dawn by an urgent message from Starfleet Medical. _“Commander Chakotay,_ ” he said, frowning slightly. _“Are you…well?”_

                Chakotay nodded. “I’m fine. But I just brought Harry in. He was attacked late last night.”

                Tuvok drew back slightly from the screen, an indication of his extreme surprise. _“Attacked? By whom?”_

                “I don’t know yet. I realize you’re just here on leave for the wedding but—“

                Tuvok cut him off with a curt nod. _“Of course. You require my assistance in locating Lieutenant Kim’s attacker.”_

                “There’s more, Tuvok,” he said in a low voice, and quickly related all the details he knew, from the timing of the incident to Kayma’s disappearance and Kathryn’s possible involvement.

_“You believe Admiral Janeway may be in danger?”_

                Chakotay leaned toward the screen. “I can’t find her, Tuvok.” He heard the bewildered quake in his own voice and brought it back under control. “Tom and B’Elanna are trying to get the tracking data on the car, but I think I know where the attacker went after Big Sur.”

                Tuvok cocked his head to one side. _“Would you prefer that I  investigate the scene of the attack, or meet you at Admiral Janeway’s townhouse?”_             

                “Scene of the attack,” Chakotay said. “I was there, but I didn’t have a tricorder with me and it was raining so hard I couldn’t see much of anything.”

_“And you were concerned with Lieutenant Kim’s health, I presume.”_

                It wasn’t a question, but Chakotay caught the concern, however tightly controlled, in Tuvok’s voice. “It’s bad, Tuvok,” he said. “The EMH took him right into surgery. Some kind of energy weapon, but it left an open wound and…burns.”

_“Your young relative, and possibly the Admiral, could be in danger of becoming victim to the same attacker.”_

                “Yes.” Chakotay punched a series of coordinates into his console. “I’m sending you the location now. There’s a silver civilian car there that might have been left behind by the attacker. Start with that.”

_“Aye, Commander.”_

                Chakotay took a deep breath. “And…I’m going to contact Seven and send her your way, too.”

                Tuvok raised an eyebrow at him. _“Her assistance will be valuable,”_ he said diplomatically.

                Chakotay scowled. “I’m sure it will. Chakotay out.” He closed the channel and started to punch in the second code on his list, but hesitated with his hand hovering over the keypad. He’d seen Seven a few times since they’d parted ways more than six months ago, but they’d barely exchanged more than a handful of polite words. For an instant, Chakotay wasn’t at all sure how Seven would react to him, or if he should even contact her.

                But…

                _Kayma missing. Kathryn in danger._

                If only for Kathryn’s sake, Seven would want to help.

                Chakotay clenched his jaw and punched in the rest of the code. Out of the corner of his eye,  he watched the data on the Starfleet car begin to scroll across the side screen. Instrument diagnostics, power usage… There. Location and time stamps. The scrolling numbers didn’t mean much to him; he wasn’t as adept at reading raw terrestrial coordinates as Tom. “Computer, superimpose incoming data on a conventional map of the area.”

                The screen changed, and Chakotay recognized the landforms of northern California, with a growing green line showing the car’s journey from San Francisco down to Big Sur the previous afternoon, where the time stamps indicated a long stop before the course headed slightly south to Kayma’s beach. “Computer, zoom in on the map.”

                Chakotay watched the green line connect the beach with a small café a few klicks away from his house. The time stamps paused again, then headed north along the Old Cabrillo Highway. Just around a sharp bend in the road the car stopped for a few minutes at the scene of the attack. At 2215, just after Chakotay had decided to drive all the way to San Francisco in order to let Kathryn sleep, the Starfleet car had started its own course north, moving fast.

                Cursing himself for sentimentality, Chakotay imagined The Falcon’s course as a red line moving in the same general direction, but along the Old Cabrillo Highway that hugged the coast. He’d taken the longest possible route from Monterey back to Kathryn’s house, while whoever was driving the Starfleet car had turned inland at Monterey and taken a more direct route.

                With a sick feeling, he watched the green line extend quickly to San Jose and San Francisco, while his imagined red line meandered through the forest and along the coast. Both lines converged just off the Starfleet grounds at a particular townhouse…but the Starfleet car got there half an hour sooner, and stopped two blocks away.

                The attacker, whoever it was, had then lain in wait there until almost midnight, long after Chakotay had left. Just after midnight, while he was speeding home, head and heart full of nothing but happy anticipation, the Starfleet car had left San Francisco in the opposite direction.

                The comm console brightened again. Seven’s lovely face hovered there, surrounded by a mane of sleep-tousled fair hair. Even though it had been months since he’d spoken at length with her, he recognized both the surprise and concern in her expression. _“Commander,”_ she acknowledged. He was grateful that she hadn’t called him by name. _“You are calling from Starfleet Medical. Are you well?”_

                Under other circumstances, Chakotay might have been amused by her statement of the obvious and her question, identical to Tuvok’s. “I’m fine,” he replied, “but there’s an emergency and I need your help. Are you busy?”

                To his disbelief, she blushed and glanced over her shoulder. Chakotay tried to see what she was looking at and caught the hint of movement in the room behind her. She was not alone.

                It was 0615 on a Sunday morning, and Seven was not alone.

                Chakotay winced. In the weeks they’d been together, she’d never once asked him to spend the night with her, and he’d never offered to stay. Feeling a curious mix of shock, regret and relief, Chakotay waved her off. “Never mind, Seven,” he said quickly. “I can take care of it myself.”

                _“No, Commander,”_ she said, her apprehensive expression settling into a slight smile. _“You said when we parted that we would remain friends. Might this be an opportunity to establish that friendship?”_

                Chakotay returned her small smile and nodded. He had no regrets about the end of his relationship with Seven, especially given the possibility of a life with Kathryn—provided he was able to rescue her from whatever trouble she’d gotten herself into. But he’d seriously underestimated Seven of Nine. They all had. “It would be a perfect opportunity, Seven. But only if you’re sure.”

                _“I am sure.”_ The doors opened behind him and Seven glanced over his shoulder, her attention captured by the two figures who entered the room: Tom and B’Elanna, in uniform and looking alert and determined. _“Friends assist each other in times of crisis. Tell me how I may be of assistance to you all.”_

                “Thank you, Seven.” Tom and B’Elanna slid into the chairs on either side of him. B’Elanna squeezed his shoulder on her way past. “I need you to meet Tuvok at a crime scene in Big Sur. I’m sending you the coordinates now.”

_“What is the nature of this crime?”_

                _Kayma missing. Kathryn in danger._

                Chakotay’s hands, resting on the console in front of him, clenched into fists. “Harry Kim has been attacked by an unknown assailant.”

                Seven’s eyes widened. _“Is he all right?”_

                He shook his head. “No, he’s not. He’s here at Starfleet Medical. The Doc is working on him now.”

_“I see.”_

                “When he was attacked, he was with my cousin Kayma. She’s now missing.”

                Seven stared at him. _“Abducted? But why? And by whom?”_

                “We don’t know, Seven. But we have reason to believe Admiral Janeway is in danger as well.”

                Seven gasped. _“Why?”_

                “Because Harry and Kayma were in the Admiral’s Starfleet car. It was taken from the crime scene. Admiral Janeway hasn’t answered repeated hails.”

                Seven nodded once, curtly, a gesture that reminded Chakotay so much of Kathryn a lump rose in his throat. _“I will assist Commander Tuvok. Send me the coordinates, and—”_

                Tom spoke up from the station to Chakotay’s left. “Sending them now, Seven.”

                _“And I’ve already got your site-to-site arranged,”_ B’Elanna added.

                Seven’s gaze darted over her shoulder as if she’d heard a sudden noise. “If you could…give me a moment?”

                “Of course, Seven.” There was movement behind Seven again, and a deep, male voice called her name. On either side of him, Tom and B’Elanna leaned back in their chairs and exchanged a wide-eyed glance. Chakotay cleared his throat. “We’ll initiate the site-to-site in one minute, if that’s all right.”

                She gave him a grateful look. _“That would be acceptable. Seven out.”_

                Chakotay closed the channel. The three friends stared at each other, speechless.  Five seconds passed. Ten.

                Finally, Chakotay rubbed his chin and attempted to bring them all back to the task at hand. “We don’t have time for this,” he reminded them all. “Not right now. Where’s Admiral Paris?”

                Paris nodded, all business again. “He stopped to talk to Harry’s parents. He should be here in a minute. Did you look at this tracking data?” He pointed to the growing green line on the screen, now moving steadily north, away from San Francisco.

                “From the time stamps,” Chakotay answered, “it looks like Harry was shot somewhere around 2200 hours.”

                B’Elanna tapped the console in front of her, eyes on Seven’s site-to-site progress. “What time did you leave Admiral Janeway’s house?”

                “Just before midnight,” Chakotay replied and pointed to the screen. “The Starfleet car left her neighborhood thirty minutes later. Can you scan her house for lifesigns?”

                “I already did. There’s nobody there.”

                Frustrated, Chakotay ran a hand through his hair. He had hoped, maybe foolishly, that Kathryn was simply exhausted from the late night and hadn’t heard his hails. “Why is this data stream so slow? Can’t we get the _current_ location of the car?”

                Tom and B’Elanna traded glances again. “Of course, Commander,” B’Elanna said. She pulled up a second map and pointed out a green dot in Oregon. “There. The car stopped about an hour ago and hasn’t moved since.”

                Chakotay peered at the map. “That’s near Crater Lake,” he said. He’d hiked the area many times as a Cadet and knew the area well. “Why would they drive seven hundred more kilometers and just stop there?”

                “Rendezvous?” Tom offered. Chakotay and B’Elanna both turned to him. He shrugged and waved at his map, with the green line heading north—to Crater Lake, they now knew. “They were moving fast,” he said. “One-seventy-five, maybe two hundred kph. There has to be a reason.”

                Chakotay turned back to B’Elanna’s console and rapped a knuckle on the green dot near Crater Lake. “Lifesigns?”

                “Give me a sec,” B’Elanna said, and tapped her console again. She shook her head. “There are a lot of people there. Humans, Bajorans, a couple of Vulcans… But there’s nobody within half a kilometer of the car.”

                “Campers and hikers,” Chakotay murmured. “Can you isolate Kayma’s unique biosignature?”

                B’Elanna shook her head. “Not without her DNA profile.”

                As a civilian, Kayma would not have a DNA profile on record at Starfleet Medical, and Chakotay had no idea where it might be on file. Probably with a family doctor in Ohio. They could scan for her using his DNA profile, but he suspected it would take too long to isolate the genetic markers they shared. And there was a much faster way to find the answer he needed. “If you had Kathryn’s?”

                B’Elanna shrugged. “Sure. If I had clearance to get it from her next of kin, or commanding officer.”

                Tom jumped up. “I’ll go get Dad,” he said, and bolted from the room.

                Chakotay swiveled his chair to face the screen to his left, where the green line crawled toward a spot just southwest of Crater Lake and stopped. He stared at it until his eyes glazed over and he had to close them.

                _Kayma missing. Kathryn in danger._

                Who would do this, and why? The Maquis were all but obliterated. The former members of his crew were all living quiet lives since their return from the Delta Quadrant. The attacker surely wasn’t Maquis.

                Kathryn’s position made her a high-value target. It was possible that the attacker had gone after her initially to get to him, but now that this first phase of the operation was complete, there could be a larger, more ambitious plot in play. Tom’s suggestion of a rendezvous seemed more and more likely. The groundcar hadn’t moved for an hour. The scan for Kathryn’s DNA was probably pointless by now. Whoever had taken her wouldn’t be stupid enough to just leave her there, not in a Starfleet groundcar that was trackable and impossible to hide.

                But he had to try just the same.

                Chakotay rubbed his forehead and sighed, willing himself to be calm. B’Elanna moved to stand behind him. “Are you all right?” asked softly.

                He dropped his hands into his lap and rolled his head against the back of the chair.  “What do you think?”

                “Did you sleep at all last night?”

                “For a couple hours while I was waiting for Kayma to get home.” He looked up at B’Elanna, his oldest friend, and nearly came undone at the compassion he saw in her eyes. “I should have figured this out sooner,” he muttered. “Kayma’s not trained for this. She’s probably scared and confused and--”

                 “But Admiral Janeway is with her,” B’Elanna said fiercely. “She won’t let anything happen.”

                “I know.”

                B’Elanna glanced around the tactical suite. “There’s a replicator. Have you eaten?”

                “Don’t nursemaid me, Torres,” he groused, but couldn’t deny the gnawing in his gut was only partially due to anxiety.

                “You’re no good to them tired and hungry.” She crossed to the replicator and returned with a stack of peanut butter toast, a bowl of fruit and two glasses of orange juice. “Here. Eat as much as you can before you head to Admiral Janeway’s.”

                He glanced at her over the top of his glass. “How do you know that’s where I’m going?” The juice exploded across his tongue, cool and sweet. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was.

                B’Elanna shrugged. “That car’s been at Crater Lake for an hour. We can scan for her, but we both know she’s probably not there. If we don’t find her biosignature right away we’ll have to widen the scan net. That’ll take time.” She popped a strawberry in her mouth. “While we wait, you’ll go to her townhouse to see if she left you a clue.”

                He devoured a slice of toast in five quick bites and washed it down with more orange juice and a handful of grapes. The food took the edge off his hunger and eased some of his apprehension. “I’m that predictable?”

                “When it comes to Admiral Janeway? Yes.” She gave him a sidelong glance and helped herself to a slice of toast. “So. She was at your place last night?”

                “We don’t have time for this,” he said again, but allowed himself a small smile anyway. “She came for dinner and stayed for the sunset. We talked. And that’s all I will say.”

                “The look on your face says the rest anyway, Chakotay.” She patted his arm. “Good for you both.”

                Before he could thank her for her support, Tom and Owen stalked into the room. Chakotay rose, brushing toast crumbs from his civilian trousers. He’d forgotten he was still out of uniform. “Admiral.”

                 “At ease, Commander.” Owen nodded toward B’Elanna’s console. “Tom explained what you need and I’ve released Katie’s medical records. You can scan for her now.”

                “Thank you, sir,” Chakotay said, and sat back down.

                “Scanning,” B’Elanna said, and they all held their breath until her shoulders slumped. She turned back to them with a resigned expression. “She’s not there.”

                Chakotay shook his head. “It’s been too long.”

                B’Elanna’s hands flew over her console. “I’ll widen the net, but scanning for something as specific as one biosignature will be slow.”

                “Now what?” Tom asked.

                Chakotay looked up to find Owen Paris staring at him curiously, his head tilted to one side. “Do you have a suggestion, sir?” he asked, but Owen merely raised his open palm, as if ceding the floor to him.

                Chakotay frowned and turned to stare at the map of the Crater Lake area again. There was something familiar about the location of the groundcar. He remembered hiking the region as a young man, through the scrub pine forests and among the mountains. But that area southwest of the lake…

                He surged forward in his seat and pointed to the map. “Isn’t there an old shuttle pad there?”

                Owen peered over his shoulder. “I think there is. Launch and landing training used to be based there, but that was decades ago. Starfleet had stopped using it by the time I was a cadet.”

                Tom stepped up beside his father. “You think they’ve left the planet?”

                “I don’t know,” Chakotay said. “But we can’t rule anything out.“

                His comm beeped. _“Tuvok to Chakotay.”_

                “Chakotay here. Report.”

                _“We found the civilian car,_ ” the Vulcan said, voice raised over the sound of pounding rain. _“It is a standard rental vehicle from an establishment in San Francisco.”_

                “DNA markers?”

_“Several. Human, Betazed, Bajoran, Ferengi.”_

                “Nothing conclusive?”

_“No, sir.”_

                “Great.” Chakotay drummed his fingers on the console in front of him. “How about the surrounding area? Anything?”

                Seven’s voice chimed in this time, crisply efficient. _“There is a great deal of Lieutenant Kim’s blood,”_ she said, causing them all to grimace, _“but very little else.”_

                “Any evidence of weapons fire?”

                Tuvok again. _“No, sir. We found no traces of energy weapons fire. The attacker must have connected with one shot.”_

                “All right. We’ve located the Starfleet car. I want you to check it out carefully, and then head to the old shuttle pad just southwest of the car. We’ll send you the coordinates.” He nodded to B’Elanna, who began setting up another site-to-site. “Anything else to report before we send you there?”

                Tuvok hesitated. _“There is a second civilian vehicle here. I presume this is The Falcon, Commander?”_

                Chakotay rose to recycle his empty glass. “It is.”

                _“Would you like us to secure it for you?”_ Chakotay could have sworn there was a hint of excitement in his voice.

                He stopped in his tracks. “Secure it how, Tuvok?”

_“We could…return it to your home.”_

                “No.” He fished in his pockets. “I have the starter anyway.”

                Seven’s voice cut in again, and there was _definitely_ a hint of excitement in it. “ _I could reconfigure the tricorder as a remote starter, Commander,”_ she said. _“Or perhaps with a small infusion of nanoprobes—”_

                “NO!” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tom and B’Elanna exchange a smirk. He waved them back to their consoles. “Just prepare for transport, both of you. And stay away from my car.”

                There was a pair of  disappointed _“Aye, sirs,”_ and the comm channel closed.

                Chakotay turned to B’Elanna. “Keep scanning for Kathryn’s biosignature, and also for anything that might indicate a shuttle launch from that old pad.”

                “Aye, sir. I’ll report as soon as I know something.” She whirled back to her console and got to work.

                Tom stood up. “Do you want me to go with you to the Admiral’s townhouse?”

                Chakotay shook his head. Apparently he was predictable to Tom, too. “No. Find Vorik and send him to help Seven and Tuvok. He’s got a good eye for geological features and might be able to spot a hiding place, if Kathryn and Kayma managed to get away. Then see if you can track down Mike Ayala and send him to me at Kathryn’s house.”

                Tom nodded and turned away from him. “Aye, sir. And…should I send Sue Nicoletti with a team to ready the _Delta Flyer II_ while I’m at it?”

                Chakotay clapped him on the shoulder as he headed for the exit and the transporter pad in the triage area. “You read my mind, Tom.”

                Admiral Paris cleared his throat. “Now, wait just a minute, son,” he warned, and they all turned to stare at him. “I’m as worried about Katie and Kayma as you are—”

                “I doubt that,” B’Elanna muttered as she whirled back to her console. Owen gave the back of her head a scathing look, but continued.

                “But you’ve been in front of a classroom for the last nine months. Let’s wait until we can put together a plan and bring in a qualified tactical leader for the mission.”

                “’Qualified?’” Chakotay roared, furious. All the anxiety he’d kept at bay all night, all the anger and worry, came pouring out. He dropped his chin and lunged at Owen Paris. The older man did not back down. “There is no one more qualified for this mission and you know it.”

                “I don’t know any such thing, Commander,” Owen said mildly, “but I do know you’re dangerously close to insubordination.” He was wearing that curious, appraising expression again.

                Seething, Chakotay made another hasty move toward him, but Tom stepped in between them, pushing Chakotay slightly away from the Admiral.  “Explain it, Chakotay,” Tom said quietly. “Make him listen.”

                Chakotay took a deep breath. “I know Kathryn better than anyone,” he said intensely. “I know how she thinks and what she’ll do. I’ve been coming to her rescue for seven years, and I won’t stop now just because I’m in Starfleet’s backyard.” He grasped Tom’s arms and set him aside. Chakotay’s whole existence had narrowed to this single moment, his attention tight and focused only on the crisis at hand. _Kayma missing. Kathryn in danger._ “There are no two people in the universe more important to me than Kayma and Kathryn. They need me. Kathryn will expect me to come find them. And I _will_ find them.” He straightened under the Admiral’s unwavering scrutiny. “You can order me to stand down, but I will still find her.”

                Owen Paris blinked…pursed his lips…and rocked back on his heels, a slow, sly smile spreading across his face. “There’s the Chakotay Katie’s been telling me about for weeks, and the one she needs now. I’m glad to meet him.” He grasped Chakotay by the shoulder and steered him toward the exit. “Let’s go find your cousin and your Kathryn, Commander.”

=/\=

                “Wake up!” A cruel hand seized her shoulder and shook it. “Wake up, damn you!”

                Kayma tried to turn away from the harsh voice in her ear, but she was lying wedged against a wall and couldn’t move. The hand shook her again, harder this time. “Stop it,” she groaned, and realized the gag had been removed from her mouth. “Stop it! I’m awake.”

                She opened her eyes and found herself in a dark, bare cell, with her hands and feet still bound. Suder was moving away from her toward another prone figure lying against the opposite wall: Kathryn. He shook her awake, too. The Admiral jerked away from his touch and Kayma could have sworn she started to lash out at him with her feet, but stopped herself at the last instant. “Get your hands off me,” the Admiral hissed.

                Suder laughed his dark, dangerous laugh. “I’ll be sorry to be rid of you, Kathryn, but it can’t be helped.” He waved his weapon at her. “First things first, however. We’ll be reaching our final destination in a few minutes. And then we’ll have a little quiz about command codes.”

                Kathryn’s face went blank. “I’ve forgotten all my command codes,” she said calmly.

                 “I suggest you start remembering, Admiral,” Suder sneered. “Because if you don’t…” He turned his weapon on Kayma. She shrank back from his angry gaze. “We both know I don’t really need the girl. If you want her kept alive, you know what to do.” He turned and stalked from the cell. When the door opened, Kayma tried to peer beyond it, but couldn’t make out anything aside from a dim, dingy corridor, almost as poorly lit as the cell. She slumped against the wall again.

                Kathryn wriggled across the small space and moved in next to her. “Are you all right?”

                Kayma nodded. “At least they took the gags out so we can talk.”

                Kathryn nodded. “They probably did it to make sure we kept breathing while we were unconscious. For now, at least, they need us alive.”

                “How long do you think we were out?”

                Kathryn’s brows knit together. “I’d say about three hours.”

                Kayma’s eyes widened in surprise. “How can you tell?”

                Kathryn shrugged. “Bladder.”

                “Oh!” Kayma thought about it…and decided that sounded about right. “Where are we?”

                “This looks like a small cargo bay.” She raised her bound hands and gestured at the room at large. “Maybe a shuttlecraft or a utility vehicle.”

                She gasped again. “We’re on a _ship_?”

                Kathryn nodded. “Moving at about three-quarter impulse, judging from the feel of the engines. They’re trying not to draw too much attention.” Kathryn stared at the binding on her wrists, which now matched Kayma’s. “Damn. I was about to get out of the other thing.” She dropped her hands back into her lap and sighed.

                Kayma licked her lips. “Now what?”

                “What do you mean?”

                “Aren’t we going to do something?”

                “Such as?”

                Kayma flapped her hands helplessly, appalled at the Admiral’s nonchalance. This was not the Kathryn Janeway whom Chakotay had been telling her about for a month. “Aren’t we going to try to escape?”

                Kathryn leaned toward her. “Listen, Kayma. We’re in a locked cargo bay on an old utility vehicle traveling at impulse speed. We know at least one person on this vessel is armed with a deadly weapon, and there are probably others on the other side of that door, similarly armed.”

                Kayma blinked. “So…no escape plan?”

                Kathryn shook her head. “No escape plan _yet_. I know it doesn’t look good, but I suspect if we wait this out, a better opportunity will present itself.”

                Kayma stared at her.

                To her astonishment, Kathryn smiled. “Chakotay’s had plenty of time to figure out what’s happened. And at this speed, the Utopia Planitia Shipyards are about three and a half hours from Earth. Suder just made the mistake I was waiting for when he told me he wants my command codes.”

                “Why would he want your command codes?” The Admiral quirked an eyebrow. Kayma stared at her…and felt a slow smile creep across her own face. “They’re taking us to _Voyager_.”

                Kathryn nodded. “They’re taking us to _Voyager_ ,” she confirmed. “Once we’re there, Chakotay and I—and whoever he’s brought with him—will have the advantage.” She clenched her hands into fists. “And these fools,” she muttered, “won’t know what hit them.”

-END Part 11-


	12. Chapter 12

** Part 12 **

                “If you and Chakotay will have the tactical advantage, why would Suder take us back to _Voyager_?” Kayma asked. “Why does he want the ship?”

                Kathryn shifted in an attempt to keep her feet from going to sleep.

                “ _He_ doesn’t. Whoever he’s working for does.”

                “So you don’t think he’s in charge of the operation?”

                “I doubt it.”

                Kayma was silent for a moment. “Neither do I,” she said softly. “I don’t think he’s capable of it.”

                “Why not?” At Kayma’s look of uncertainty, Kathryn shook her head. “I don’t think he is, either. But my reasons are tactical. Are yours…clinical?” Kayma nodded. Kathryn leaned forward. “Tell me everything you’ve observed. _Everything._ It could be important.” The rumble of the engines changed beneath them. “And quickly, Kayma, because I think we must be getting close to the shipyards.”

                Kayma took a deep breath. “You’ve noticed that Suder seems to be a touch-empath?” Kathryn nodded. “Betazoid telepathy originates in the paracortex of the brain. If Suder is only able to sense emotions through touch, not through typical telepathy, it could be because his paracortex is damaged or not functioning correctly. If that’s the case, he may be cognitively compromised in other ways, too.”

                Kathryn was pleased with and proud of the way Kayma had begun to set aside her fear and think more clearly. “Have you seen evidence of it?”

                Kayma nodded. “Impatience, for one thing. He was clearly frustrated that I didn’t wake up right away, and when he threatened my life just now--”

                “That was the first time he seemed to actually _mean_ it.”

                Kayma nodded. “He’s getting impulsive. Desperate.”

                Kathryn frowned. “What is he desperate for, do you think?”

                Kayma hesitated. “This is pure speculation,” she said in a low voice.

                Kathryn waved her bound hands. “I understand.”

                Kayma took a deep breath. “Obviously, he’s not so cognitively compromised that he can’t function. But he’s starting to lose control of his own emotions, and he’s stopped trying to feed off ours. That might not just be due to a damaged paracortex.”

                Kathryn cocked her head to one side. “What do you mean?”

                “Betazoids also need a large amount of the neurotransmitter psylosinine in order for their telepathy to work properly.” She inclined her head to the door. “He acts like he’s had a dose, but it’s wearing off. He’s not trying to feed off us anymore because he can’t.”

                Kathryn sat up suddenly, her mind racing. “Synthetic psylosinine is heavily regulated. It can also be used as a neurotoxin.”

                “Exactly. And I doubt Suder is getting it from a known source,” Kayma said dryly.

                “But if someone is supplying him with regular doses--”

                Kayma nodded. “Whoever it is may be trying to develop a biological weapon from synthetic psylosinine. Although that doesn’t explain why they want _Voyager_.”

                “Actually, it does.” Kathryn closed her eyes. This situation had suddenly become much more dangerous than she imagined. “That ship is so nonregulation now Starfleet can’t decide what to do with it: Study it, retrofit it or just mothball it. It’s got ablative shielding, a slipstream drive, Borg technology, bioneural circuitry, Delta Quadrant equipment and even a few devices from the future. It’s the perfect delivery system for a biological weapon. Damn.” She slumped against the wall. “Starfleet was right to keep her apart from the rest of the fleet.”

                “But I thought it was at Utopia Planitia?”

                “It is, but they’ve put her in a separate orbital drydock, away from the rest of the shipyards. It’s under guard, but--”

                “But if _you_ try to get aboard, the guards won’t stop you.”

                Kathryn winced. “If these people even bother with the guards. If they want my command codes to get aboard, they may be planning to take out the drydock guards first.”

                “Aren’t there guards on board, too?”

                Kathryn shook her head. “Only when someone was working on her. She’s just sitting there empty right now until HQ makes a decision about her fate. There are probably two or three security personnel at the docking facility, but that’s all.” She raised her bound hands and rubbed her forehead, feeling the first twinges of a massive headache. “I didn’t think Brant was working alone, but I may have underestimated whoever he’s working _with_.”

                “Who do you think it could be?”

                Kathryn sighed. She was tired and hungry, and knew she wasn’t thinking quite as clearly as she should. “Honestly, I have no idea. A few random threats have crossed my desk, but nothing involving _Voyager_. Owen Paris told me there were vague threats against me personally, but that was months ago.”

                They were both quiet for a moment, lost in thought. Kathryn listened to the hum of the engine. The craft had slowed but was still making steady progress under low impulse power, probably staying well away from the various Martian docking facilities. _Voyager’s_ custom drydock was far enough away from the main shipyards that it could be approached unseen from the far side.

                Again, Kathryn closed her eyes and tried to surmise who might be responsible for this operation. Suder had surely been drawn in by his desire for vengeance against Chakotay. Whoever was pulling his strings – and, if Kayma was correct, supplying him with the psylosinine as a reward for his continued cooperation – had probably convinced him that bringing her in would surely hurt Chakotay. And it would, Kathryn had no doubt of that. Whoever was in charge probably had no interest in Chakotay at all, though. They wanted the ship, and they needed Kathryn to get it. They’d just looked for someone willing to abduct her. Suder’s anger made him more than willing.

                But whoever it was probably hadn’t counted on poking a sleeping bear. Kathryn almost smiled, remembering the many times Chakotay – and Tuvok and Tom and B’Elanna and Harry and all of them, led by the angry Commander – had swooped in to save her in the Delta Quadrant. She only hoped that he would pause long enough to puzzle out what was really going on, and how much danger they were all in.

                There was something about the concept of synthesizing neurotoxins to build a biological weapon that seemed…familiar. Kathryn searched her memories again for a clue. In a briefing just after her promotion, someone, maybe Paris or Nechayev, had mentioned an old threat, something that had come up before _Voyager_ ’s sojourn in the Delta Quadrant and had been neutralized before the ship’s return. Kathryn grasped at the wisp of memory…but in the overwhelming information dump that had been her first month as an Admiral, the details had been lost, if only temporarily. She sighed. It would come to her eventually. She just hoped it wouldn’t be too late.

                When she opened her eyes again, she found Kayma staring at her with a  worried expression. “What is it?”

                Kayma swallowed hard. “Still no plan?”

                Kathryn gave her a small smile. “No plan, but a few ideas. Ready?” Kayma nodded in relief, and Kathryn’s smile widened. The girl didn’t like sitting still and waiting for something to happen any more than she did herself. “All right. First, Suder probably has no idea that these people aren’t interested in Chakotay at all. They just want the ship, and I suspect that when they’ve got it, they won’t wait for Chakotay to turn up before they go. Once Suder figures that out, he’ll realize that he’s expendable, and we might have an ally. So watch for an opportunity to plant that seed.”

                Kayma nodded. “And also watch for whoever’s supplying him with psylosinine?”

                “If they even bother.”

                Kayma cocked her head to one side. “You know, psylosinine is regulated, but there are legal means of obtaining a regular supply. He doesn’t have to go underground to get it.”

                Kathryn frowned. “Unless he has a criminal record that would keep him from coming forward. If he’s wanted somewhere, he’d be taken into custody as soon as he tried to obtain it.”

                Kayma bristled slightly. “True, but if we all survive this he’s going to be taken into custody regardless, isn’t he?”

                “I suppose so,” Kathryn conceded.

                “He can be rehabilitated, if he wants it.” Kayma shrugged. “Another seed to plant.”

                For a moment, Kathryn was taken aback by Kayma’s defense of her attacker, but then she realized it for what it was: An act of compassion for a fellow being, the same compassion that Chakotay had once shown to the Kazon boy Kar, the same compassion they had occasionally counted on to keep them alive in the Delta Quadrant. She reached out and patted Kayma’s arm with her bound hands. “You’re right. Another seed to plant. Thank you for thinking of it.”

                Kayma’s face reddened in embarrassment, but she shook it off. “What other ideas do you have?”

                “When Chakotay gets here – and he _will_ get here soon, make no mistake about that – he’s not going to come in with guns blazing. He’ll observe first, look for a weakness, and then act. But before he acts, he’ll try to let us know he’s here.”

                Kayma blinked in surprise. “ _How?_ ”

                Kathryn almost laughed. “I don’t know, but he’ll do something subtle that only you or I would notice. He’ll use whatever’s on hand, too. Lights, sounds, signals. So keep your eyes open, but don’t react to whatever you see or hear. We don’t want to tip them off.” Kayma nodded, bewildered. “Once we know he’s here, we’ll need to be ready to act. He’ll expect us to help out with our own rescue.”

                Kayma raised her bound hands. “I’m not sure how much help we’ll be.”

                “Eventually they’re going to move us. That means they’ll have to take those,” Kathryn pointed to the bindings around her ankles, “off. Once we’re mobile, we’ll at least be able to run. That might be all we need to do.”

                Kayma lowered her hands thoughtfully. “All right, I’ll be ready.”

                Kathryn leaned forward. “Finally, I need you to assure me that you’ll obey either of us without question. We’re going to get out of this, but it may not be easy, and it’ll definitely be dangerous. I need to know that you’ll follow our orders immediately, no matter what they are.”

                Kayma nodded solemnly. “I promise.” Then she grinned. “Can I tell my brothers you gave me a field commission to Ensign?”

                Kathryn chuckled. Chakotay and his cousin both had a dark, slightly twisted sense of humor that emerged at the oddest of times. “Chakotay warned me about your brothers. I don’t think--”

                The craft rumbled to a halt. Kathryn and Kayma both looked toward the door, which slid open almost immediately. Suder stepped in first, and Kayma was right. The man did look a little frantic. He trained his weapon on Kathryn and stepped aside to allow an Orion man, one of the ones Kathryn had seen before, step into the room. The Orion was carrying an identical weapon, which he pointed at Kayma.

                Suder raised his free hand and showed Kathryn the small device resting in his palm: The remote release for the bindings she and Kayma wore. “It’s time to go,” he hissed at her. “One wrong move and the girl dies. Understand?” Kathryn nodded. Suder released the bindings on her ankles, then turned and did the same to Kayma’s bindings. “Get up,” he ordered, and both women stood slowly, shaking the numbness out of their feet.

                The Orion took Kayma by the arm and dragged her out of the cell. Suder started to reach for Kathryn, dropped his hand and motioned instead with his weapon. Kayma was right; he wasn’t processing empathic input properly, or possibly at all. He seemed very reluctant to touch her.

                Kathryn stepped out of the cell and into the short corridor of a standard cargo shuttle. She paused to look for any distinguishing marks, but the corridor was gray and featureless. Suder poked her between the shoulder blades with the barrel of the weapon and she moved on, falling in step behind Kayma and the Orion.

                At the end of the corridor the Orion pressed his palm to a scanner and another door opened, this time into the cockpit of the craft. Andorians sat in both the pilot and co-pilot’s seats. A Bajoran woman glanced up from the engineering station, gaped at her and turned away again. The other people she’d seen earlier were not present. Kathryn assumed they were either in other parts of the shuttle, or had been left behind with the Starfleet car. Dead? Possibly. She glanced at the forward viewscreen.

                _Voyager_ hung there before her eyes, tucked safely in her custom drydock, but Kathryn only spared her a momentary glance. Instead, she observed each conspirator carefully. Only Suder, the Orion and the Bajoran woman were armed with the odd phaser. The two Andorians both had blades tucked into their belts, but no other visible weapons. One of the Andorians was very young, maybe no more than a teenager, and looked nervous. His blue hands flitted over the console in front of him. Kathryn moved slightly to get a better look. He appeared to be scanning for something, but his body blocked the results of the scan. The Bajoran turned to her again, this time with a sneer that reminded her forcefully of Seska. Kathryn shivered.

                “I’ve isolated the dock’s systems,” the Bajoran said. “Shall I proceed?”

                Suder shook his head. “Not yet.” He peered over the young Andorian’s shoulder. “Where are they?”

                The Andorian adjusted his scan. “These sensors aren’t very strong, even with my modifications in place. They must not be close enough for us to detect the cloak yet.”

                _Cloak?_ Kathryn blinked, suppressing a gasp of shock. The Treaty of Algeron prohibited the use of cloaking technology. The Federation had used a Romulan cloak briefly during the Dominion War, but that particular deal with the Devil had only brought more trouble than it was worth. Who could Suder be working with who might have a _cloak_?

                The Android in the pilot’s seat shifted heavily. “They’re late,” he muttered. “We’ve been in position for five minutes. They should be here.”

                The Orion chuckled. “I don’t care _when_ they get here, as long as I get paid.”

                So the crew weren’t part of the operation. Suder had probably hired them just for this part of the plan. She tucked that knowledge away with the rest of the clues she’d compiled so far. They had all begun to work together to form a picture she didn’t like at all. But there was still something missing, something important.

                _Synthetic neurotoxins. Biological weapons. Cloaking device._

                Who was Suder working for, and how did they get a cloaking device?

                In the uncomfortable silence, Kathryn took another moment to study the viewscreen. The shuttle had taken up a position hidden behind the drydock. It was unlikely that anyone on the Martian surface, or even in any of the other docking facilities, could see the shuttle. They were effectively invisible, at least for the moment. Visible to scanners, of course, but invisible to the naked eye.

                “I still have a lock on the dock’s systems,” the Bajoran woman said, more forcefully this time. “What should I do?”

                “Just wait!” Suder shouted, and Kathryn and Kayma exchanged a knowing glance. The Betazoid was definitely starting to show signs of stress, possibly as a result of psylosinine deprivation.

                The pilot cursed in Andorian. “This is ridiculous. If they’re not here in two more minutes I’m dumping you and your little girlfriends on the surface.” He turned slightly and leered at Kayma. “Or maybe I’ll keep one of them.”

                Kathryn started to step between him and Kayma, but Suder yanked her back. Then he dropped his hand as if he’d been burned. With a glance at Kayma to make sure she was all right, Kathryn moved away from the pilot again.

                _Synthetic neurotoxins. Biological weapons. Cloaking device._

                The phrases tumbled through Kathryn’s sleep-deprived brain, over and over again. What did they have in common? _Who_ did they have in common?

                The young Andorian suddenly sat up straight. “I think I have them,” he said. His hands hovered over the scanner again. “I think…yes. They’re here.” He turned to the pilot with a relieved smile, then to Suder. “They’re here.”

                Suder nodded. “Go ahead, Shena,” he said, and turned to the Bajoran. “At your leisure, my dear.”

                The Bajoran woman glared at him, then turned back to the engineering console. While Kathryn watched, the woman’s nimble hands punched in a series of commands and waited. Kathryn turned to the main viewscreen. The dock…

                The dock was dead.

                No lights, no tractors, no orbital thrusters, no nothing. Though powerless, its momentum would keep it orbiting for a few more minutes, but even Martian gravity, a fraction of Earth’s, would begin to pull it down soon. _Voyager_ , freed from the docking clamps and tractor beams, would also continue to orbit, but without shields and thrusters, she would also be susceptible to the ravages of Martian gravity.

                So this is how they were going to ensure her cooperation, Kathryn realized. They were going to take the ship…or let it be destroyed.

                “There,” the young Andorian said. “They’re decloaking.”

                As the screen shimmered, he turned to Kathryn with a dark, feral smile that made her flesh crawl. Three ships rippled into full visibility. Three ships with rounded forward hulls and elongated bodies, three ships with pincer-like tails. Three reptilian fighters ships, hiding in the shadow of the blind and disabled drydock.

                Kathryn gasped.

                _Synthetic neurotoxins. Biological weapons. Cloaking device._

It all came together in a wild rush.

                The Andorian spoke up again. “We’re being hailed.”

                Suder grinned at her. “Put it through.”

                The screen shifted again, the view of the three ships replaced with the dim interior of a Hideki-class fighter and her five-person crew: Three Jem’Hadar warriors, their Vorta master, and in the center seat…

                _“Hello, Kathryn Janeway,”_ the ship’s commander said softly.

                Kathryn nodded once, betraying nothing. “Gul Evek,” she said. “It’s been a while.”

-END Part 12-


	13. Chapter 13

** Part 13 **

                The tactical gear felt like a second skin.

                In the months since _Voyager’s_ return, Chakotay had spent most of his time clad in the gray uniform of an Academy professor, or the casual, comfortable clothes he wore while off-duty in Big Sur. He’d forgotten how easy it was to move – how easy it was to _breathe_ – in sleek, black Starfleet tactical gear, even with extra weapons and communications equipment strapped to his belt and tucked into his pockets. From the tight black turtleneck to the soft-soled boots, every centimeter of the kit had been engineered by Starfleet’s Quartermaster division for stealth, silence and maximum efficiency. Chakotay and Admiral Paris had paused before beaming to Kathryn’s townhouse just long enough to change, and even though Chakotay was almost certain no danger lurked there, it felt good, damn good, to be armed and ready for anything.

                The street in front of the townhouse was deserted in the early morning fog, just as it had been at midnight. Chakotay palmed his phaser and mounted the house’s steps, trying not to think about the elation he’d felt the last time he’d crossed Kathryn’s stoop, just a few hours before. Admiral Paris stepped up behind him, tricorder in hand. Chakotay glanced through the window and into an empty living room. He exchanged a glance with Admiral Paris, who shook his head at the tricorder. “Nothing,” the older man whispered. “The security system isn’t armed, and I’m not reading any lifesigns inside.”

                “It’s possible to mask lifesigns,” Chakotay whispered back.

                “True,” Owen conceded. “Do you want to wait for Mister Ayala and the rest of your team?”

                Chakotay paused. Kathryn’s stolen car was at Crater Lake – had been for hours. “No,” he said, and reached for the old-fashioned doorknob. “We’ll be cautious, but I don’t think there’s anyone here.”

                “I agree.” But the Admiral grabbed his own phaser just the same, and Chakotay pushed open the unlocked door.

                Kathryn’s jacket was still hanging on a hook in the dim entryway, just where she’d left it the night before – and with her communicator still pinned to the lapel. Chakotay frowned at it, knowing that if she’d left of her own volition she’d have taken the comm. He took two quiet steps further along the entryway, scanning every surface of the narrow hallway for signs of a struggle.

                Nothing. Nothing visible to the naked eye, anyway. The holos of Kathryn’s niece and nephew, hanging on the wall at the end of the entryway, weren’t even crooked. Chakotay gripped his phaser and turned back to Admiral Paris. “Anything?”

                Paris thumbed the tricorder’s controls. “Kathryn’s DNA, obviously.”

                “Obviously.”

                Chakotay stepped into the living room, leaving Paris to his scans. Everything was as it had been the night before, all the books and holos and trinkets in their familiar places. There was a padd on the sofa; he picked it up and activated it, scrolling through files. _I need to go over some reports and prepare a briefing,_ Kathryn had said, _before brunch with Mom and Phoebe._

                “Brunch,” Chakotay said.

                Paris looked up from his tricorder. “What’s that?”

                “She was going to Indiana for brunch.”

                Paris cocked an eyebrow at him. “Do you think that’s where she is?”

                Chakotay gritted his teeth. “No.” He tossed the padd back on the sofa. “Tell me, Admiral. Have there been threats against Kathryn since we got back?”

                The older man hesitated. “Yes. Nothing we could pinpoint, nothing credible. But yes, there have been threats.”

                “Why doesn’t she have a security detail on her?”

                Paris sighed. “She dismissed them. Then she tore a strip off my hide. Said she had no desire to live like a prisoner in her own home.”

                “Typical,” Chakotay muttered. “No regard for her own safety.”

                “We issued her a phaser,” Paris countered.

                Chakotay bristled at the defensive tone in Owen’s voice. Issuing Kathryn a weapon when she didn’t actively need one was pointless, given the woman’s penchant for impulsive recklessness. “That phaser is no doubt buried in a drawer somewhere in her bedroom.”

                “How do you know?”

                Chakotay shrugged. “It’s where she kept it on _Voyager_.”

                The Admiral looked up sharply. Chakotay met his eyes and shook his head. “I know her,” he explained. “Better than you ever did.”

                “Or will ever hope to, I imagine.”

                “Probably.” Chakotay continued to stare at him from across the room. “If you know anything,” he began, but Paris shook his head.

                “I don’t,” the Admiral said firmly. “I’ve known Katie since she was a little girl, Commander. If I had knowledge that would help you find her,  you’d have it already.”

                Chakotay held his eyes for another long moment. He hadn’t spent much time with the man since _Voyager’s_ return, but something in those ice-blue eyes, maybe something that reminded him of Tom, assured him that the Admiral was trustworthy. Refusing to examine the feeling behind that thought too closely, Chakotay nodded and headed for the kitchen.

                The silence of the house was unsettling.

                In the quiet, the last few words he’d exchanged with Kathryn kept playing in his head, an endless, unnerving loop. _Our timing was never right before. Join me for lunch next week and we’ll talk. Drive safely, give Kayma a hug for me, and don’t eat all the brownies._

                The empty pan was still on the kitchen counter. Chakotay nudged it with his phaser and suppressed a faint smile. Kathryn was…a bit of a slob. It was irrational, holding out hope that she was all right, that the attack on Harry, the stolen car and Kayma and Kathryn’s absence were all just a bizarre coincidence. But he couldn’t help but think that Kathryn might have left the empty pan behind even if she’d left the house on her own, intending to clean it up later.

                He turned to examine the rest of the kitchen, and stopped cold.

                She might have left the pan behind…but she surely would have taken the coffee.

                More than any other clue he’d gathered so far, the full, steaming pot confirmed that Kathryn was in terrible danger.

                Chakotay placed his hands flat on the counter on either side of the coffee pot and closed his eyes.

                She’d asked him to stay. She’d offered up her sofa so he wouldn’t have to drive back to Big Sur at midnight, but he’d refused, citing Kayma’s tendency to worry about him. In truth, he hadn’t quite trusted himself to stay. He wanted to be with Kathryn more than he wanted his next meal, his next _breath_ , but while she was still seeing Richard he had to keep his distance. Kathryn’s position put her under a microscope, both personally and professionally, and he would not be the cause of more scrutiny for her, not until she was ready for him.

                But if he had stayed…

                If he had just stayed, he might have been there when whoever had stolen the Starfleet car had turned up at her house. He might have been able to prevent whatever had happened here. He might have been able to protect both Kathryn and Kayma.

                Behind him, the Admiral’s  tricorder gave a harsh beep, splitting the silence of the empty house. Chakotay gathered himself and turned to find Paris peering at a spot about a meter and a half up the wall. “Do you have a beacon?”

                Chakotay joined him in the entryway, flicked on his wrist beacon and shone it on the bit of wall holding the Admiral’s attention. He caught his breath at the small smear of red marring the pale yellow surface. “Blood?”

                The Admiral nodded. “Kathryn’s.”

                With a shaking hand, Chakotay reached out and let his fingers hover over the spot. On him, it was chest high. But Kathryn… “Head height,” he said, feeling his anger rise. “She’s hurt.”

                “She resisted, though. That’s something.”

                Before Chakotay could reply, the house’s comm system sounded. Chakotay and Paris exchanged a puzzled glance, then Chakotay trotted over to the desk and activated the comm station. The signal originated from Bloomington, Indiana. Without hesitation, he answered the call. “Mrs. Janeway?”

                The older woman drew back from the screen. _“Commander Chakotay?”_ Then she gave him a sly smile. _“And what are you doing there, my dear? Has Kathryn finally come to her senses? Is she bringing you for brunch instead?”_

                Chakotay hesitated, unable to puzzle out the meaning of all the questions. “I’m…looking for Kathryn. I don’t suppose she’s with you, is she?”

                Gretchen Janeway stared at him for a long, quiet moment. _“What’s happened, Chakotay?”_ she asked, sounding for all the world like Kathryn.

                Chakotay sighed and sat down in Kathryn’s chair, trying to think of the most succinct way to describe the situation. He glanced over at Paris for assistance – at least Paris knew Gretchen reasonably well – but the Admiral seemed to be suddenly very engaged with his scans. Chakotay scowled at his back and turned to Gretchen again.

                 “She and Harry Kim came down to Big Sur for dinner last night,” he began. “Harry and my cousin Kayma – you haven’t met her, she’s living with me while she’s in school – Harry and Kayma left after dinner in Kathryn’s car. I drove Kathryn back here. But Kayma never came home. I found Harry this morning. He’d been shot with some kind of energy weapon. Kayma and the car were gone.”

                Gretchen gasped. _“What does this have to do with Kathryn? Where is she?”_

                Chakotay licked his lips. He heard the townhouse’s door open, but didn’t look up. The Admiral had probably just found another clue. “I don’t know,” he said. “We tracked the Starfleet car back here to her house. It was parked nearby when Kathryn and I got here just before midnight, but we never saw it. It left half an hour after I started home. We found the car at Crater Lake, but not Kathryn, or Kayma.”

                A new voice, thin and reedy, entered the conversation. “What were you doing here at midnight, Mister Chakotay?”

                A shudder crawled up Chakotay’s spine. Brunch. Of course. Kathryn hadn’t planned to go to Indiana alone. He exchanged a wary glance with Gretchen, who raised an eyebrow at him. Chakotay turned slowly. “Mister Thorpe,” he said carefully. “I can assure you--”

                “She broke a dinner date with me,” Richard continued. “To spend time with you, I take it?”

                Chakotay looked around Richard to where Admiral Paris stood, a sheepish look on his face. Mike Ayala hovered behind him. The older man shrugged and spread his hands in a gesture of apology. “Listen, Mister Thorpe,” Chakotay began. “I don’t think this is the time--”

                “She told me had a meeting with a graduate student.”

                Frowning, Chakotay leaned forward in Kathryn’s chair. “Actually, she did, but--”

                The little man gave him an arch look. “You’re rather older than most graduate students, Commander.”

                Chakotay took a deep, centering breath. “Kathryn is missing, and I don’t have time to explain--”

                “You’ll make time, sir,” Richard exploded, not backing down. “She couldn’t stop talking about you the night of the wedding, and now she’s broken two dates with me this week. I want to know why. What were you doing here at midnight?”

                Rising swiftly, Chakotay found himself looming over the smaller man. “Did you hear me? Kathryn is _missing_. I have reason to believe she’s been abducted, and I know she’s hurt. I intend to find her, even if I have to go through you to do it.”

                Richard puffed out his thin chest. “Is that a threat, Commander?”

                “Are you listening to me _at all_?” Chakotay clenched his fists. “If you give a damn about Kathryn, you’ll stay out of my way.”

                “If I give a damn!” Richard spluttered. “Of course I give a damn! I--”

                Chakotay’s comm badge beeped. _“Tuvok to Chakotay.”_

                Ayala stepped around Richard. “Go,” he said quietly. “We’ll take care of this.”

                Chakotay gave his old friend a grateful nod, scowled at Richard, and stepped into the entryway again. “Chakotay here. What have you got?”

                _“We located Admiral Janeway’s groundcar,”_ the Vulcan said slowly.

                Something in his tone made the hair on the back of Chakotay’s neck stand up. “And?”

                _“Blood,”_ Tuvok said. _“Human blood.”_

                Chakotay closed his eyes. “Kathryn’s?”

_“Affirmative. And a second DNA pattern.”_

                “Kayma’s.”

                _“Most likely,”_ Tuvok said.

                Chakotay stepped out onto the stoop, suddenly in need of clear, fresh air. If Kathryn was with her, Kayma’s chances of surviving whatever this ordeal turned out to be had increased exponentially. Chakotay knew this deep in his heart.

                But he also knew, with sick certainty, that if the moment came in which Kathryn felt she had to sacrifice herself to save Kayma, she’d do it without a second thought. “How much?”

                Seven’s voice chimed in this time. _“A small quantity of each,”_ she said. _“Not enough to indicate serious injury on either part.”_

                Relieved for the moment, Chakotay leaned against the house. “Anything else? How about the driver of the car?”

                Tuvok again. _“The only other DNA evidence we found in any quantity, aside from Lieutenant Kim’s, was Betazoid.”_

                Chakotay blinked. “Betazoid? That seems…odd.” And yet, something tickled at the back of his mind, some memory that he couldn’t quite place.

                _“Indeed,”_ Tuvok said. _“We also examined the disused launch pad you suggested.”_

                 “And?”

                Seven spoke up again. “ _A ship was launched from here approximately three hours ago, sir. A small cargo vessel, judging from the energy signature.”_

                “Is it trackable?”

_“Yes, sir. The ion trail is beginning to dissipate, but there should be enough to begin a trace and determine a course.”_

                Pushing away from the wall, Chakotay turned back into the house to find Admiral Paris. “Send the tracking data to Tom and B’Elanna. They should still be at Starfleet Medical. And have them set up a site-to-site for you.”

                _“Destination?”_ Tuvok asked.

                “Stand by, Tuvok,” he said, and caught Admiral Paris’s eye. “Tuvok and Seven found…” He looked around the room. “Where’s Richard?”

                Ayala hitched a hip on Kathryn’s desk. “I convinced Mrs. Janeway that she might feel a little safer if someone kept her company while we look for Admiral Janeway and Kayma, so I arranged a site-to-site.” The younger man grinned. “She said you owe her one.”

                In spite of the circumstances, Chakotay gave a soft laugh. “I just bet she did.” He clapped Mike on the shoulder. “I owe _you_ one, too.”

                Admiral Paris cleared his throat. “You can settle up after this is all over, Commander. What did Tuvok and Seven find?”

                “Kathryn and Kayma’s blood in the Starfleet car, and Betazoid DNA in the driver’s seat. Does that mean anything to you?”

                Owen shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Anything else?”

                “A small cargo vessel was launched from the old pad near Crater Lake. They’re sending the trace to Tom and B’Elanna. I think whoever did this took Kathryn and Kayma off the planet.” He turned to Mike. “How much do you know?”

                Ayala shrugged. “Tom filled me in on everything. The team is assembling at Starfleet Medical, and the _Flyer II_ is ready when you are.”

                Chakotay grinned. “’The team?’”

                Ayala smiled, too. “Sue Nicoletti, Philicia, Vorik, Chell, Sam Wildman, Ken Dalby, Gerron, Jenny and Megan Delaney, Pablo Baytart, Sharr, Stipes, Jarvin and Swinn, Murphy, Renn--”

                Chakotay shook his head. “How many?”

                “Tom thought at least twenty. Maybe twenty-five. Everybody they could find.”

                A wave of gratitude washed over Chakotay. Everyone who was within transporter distance had answered the call. “Tuvok? You still there?”

                The Vulcan, unruffled as always, answered immediately. _“Of course, sir.”_

                “Arrange your site-to-site to Starfleet Medical. Meet us in the tactical suite.”

_“Aye, sir. Tuvok out.”_

                Chakotay tapped his comm again. “Chakotay to Tom Paris.”

_“Here, sir.”_

                “Beam us back to you, Tom. It’s time to move.”

_“Aye, sir. See you in a minute.”_

                Chakotay secured his phaser and took one last look around Kathryn’s living room before the beam took him. _Next time I’m here_ , he vowed to himself, _she’ll be here with me. She and Kayma both._

                The beam deposited him back in Starfleet Medical, where his day had begun. He stepped off the transporter pad and halted at the sight of a familiar face.

                “Doc!” he exclaimed. In the chaos of the last couple of hours, he’d almost forgotten about Harry. “How is Lieutenant Kim?”

                The EMH smiled. “He’s recovering well. As long as he stays here where he belongs, he should be fine in a day or two.” The Doc’s expression went grave, then. “But I wanted to talk to you about the weapon that almost killed him.”

                Chakotay frowned and steered the Doc toward the tactical suite, Owen and Mike following right behind them. “I’d never seen anything quite like that wound,” he said softly.

                “No wonder,” the Doc replied. “That type of plasma weapon was banned decades ago.”

                Chakotay stopped in his tracks. “It was a plasma weapon?” That would certainly explain the burning hole in the middle of Harry’s chest.

                The Doc nodded. “With an even deadlier strain than a conventional plasma beam.” He pressed a padd into Chakotay’s hands. “Take a look at this.”

                Chakotay scanned the data, unable to make anything of the graphs and numbers presented there. He knew that Kathryn would have been able to read it immediately and felt a sudden pang of longing. “Tell me, Doc.”

                With a heavy sigh, the Doc pointed out a particular set of numbers. “This,” he said. “This is the molecular signature of a form of weaponized psylosinine.”

                Behind them, Owen Paris started violently. “Oh my god,” he whispered, and slumped against the wall.

                “Admiral?” Chakotay prompted.

                “That was months ago,” the Admiral murmured to himself. He’d gone deathly pale in a matter of seconds. “And we didn’t think the source was credible.”

                Chakotay’s heart suddenly thudded against his ribs. “What is it, Admiral?

                Owen swallowed hard. “Commander… What do you remember about an old Cardassian organization called The True Way?”

-END Part 13-


	14. Chapter 14

** Part 14 **

                It was almost like old times.

                Tom leaned against the comm station and folded his arms over his chest. The tactical suite was packed with former shipmates. Most were in uniform, but a few were still in civvies and rubbing sleep from their eyes.     Ken Dalby and Gerron were chatting with Sue and Philicia in one corner of the room, while the Delaney sisters grilled a blushing Ethan Murphy about the handsome young Trill he’d brought to Celes and Billy’s wedding. Chell, Sharr and Stipes had commandeered the replicator and were passing cups of coffee and plates of pastries through the group. Swinn and Jarvin had their heads bent close together, no doubt conspiring to pull off a practical joke on either Pablo Baytart or Renn – or both, probably. Tom and B’Elanna had been surprised and pleased to find Renn at Baytart’s house in Albuquerque just half an hour earlier.

                Tom smiled, watching the group. They’d all been together just a week ago for the wedding, of course, but there was a different energy to the gathering now. There was a mission at hand, and while Tom and B’Elanna had only been able to give each of them the barest details of the situation, they’d all agreed to help with no hesitation whatsoever. Admiral Janeway was in trouble and Commander Chakotay needed their help to rescue her. That was really the only information any of them had required before jumping into the fray.

                B’Elanna peered at him. “What are you grinning at?”

                Tom thrust his chin toward the gathered crowd. “That,” he said. “I suddenly feel a lot better about getting the Admiral and Kayma back.”

                “We all do make a pretty good team, don’t we?” She leaned against him and he draped an arm across her shoulders.

                He was about to agree when the doors slid open and admitted Tuvok, Seven and Vorik. All three wore grim expressions, probably almost as much for their rain-soaked uniforms as for their concern with the situation. Vorik joined Dalby’s group while Tom motioned to Tuvok and Seven. “Did you find anything else?” he asked when they reached him.

                Tuvok shook his head, sending a splatter of raindrops into the air. “Negative. Were you able to track the cargo vessel?”

                B’Elanna nodded. “It launched from Crater Lake into low-Earth orbit, then broke orbit about half an hour later. The tracking data is already loaded into the _Flyer II_ ’s navigation system.”

                “Are we certain the Admiral and Kayma were aboard the vessel?” Seven asked, gingerly wiping rain from the rim of her ocular implant.

                Tom shrugged. “We scanned for her biosignature in the area and never found it. Seems like the  mostly likely scenario. Chakotay thinks so, anyway.”

                Before either Tuvok or Seven could reply, Chell waddled up and handed them each a large, fluffy towel. Sharr waited for both officers to wrap the towels around their shoulders, then gave them each a steaming cup of tea. Both Bolians nodded solemnly at them all before turning and shuffling back into the crowd. Tom chuckled.

                The doors slid open, this time admitting Mike Ayala and the Doc. Both man and hologram looked very serious – not an unusual expression for the Doc, but Mike definitely seemed more subdued than normal. Tom felt B’Elanna tense under his arm and drew her a little closer to his side. He waved the Doc and Mike over, too, and Tuvok and Seven stepped slightly aside to draw them to the group.

                “Did you find anything at the Admiral’s house?” Tom asked.

                Mike shrugged. “Not much. She definitely didn’t leave willingly, though.” His jaw clenched. “While we were there that Thorpe guy showed up.”

                Tom groaned. “What did he want?”

                “I think he was supposed to go somewhere with the Admiral. Wasn’t very happy that Chakotay was there late last night.” Mike grinned suddenly. “So…Chakotay was there late last night?”

                Tom started to answer, but quieted when B’Elanna elbowed him in the ribs. Someday soon, he was going to have a permanent bruise there.

                B’Elanna turned to the Doc. “How’s Harry?” she asked.

                The Doc’s expression cleared instantly. “Recovering nicely,” he said. “His wound was extensive, and he had lost a great deal of blood. But I was able to repair the damage and reverse the effects of the neurotoxin.”

                Tom and B’Elanna both gasped. Tuvok and Seven frowned. “The what?” Tom asked.

                The Doc glanced at Ayala. “Should we wait for the Admiral and Commander?”

                Mike nodded solemnly. “Probably. It would be best if we all heard it at once.” He started to turn away. “Is there coffee?”

                B’Elanna’s hand shot out and wrapped around Ayala’s wrist. She yanked him back to her with inhuman force. “What the hell is going on, Mike?” Her voice was low and dangerous. “Where’s Chakotay?”

                Mike winced and tried to pry her fingers from his wrist. “He’s getting more information from Admiral Paris.”

                “That’s not an answer,” B’Elanna hissed.

                Tom placed a soothing hand atop hers, around Mike’s wrist. He felt the tension quivering just beneath her skin. Harry was one of their closest friends, and the thought of him being harmed by a neurotoxin was almost too much for Tom to take, too. He had a sick feeling in his stomach that the situation was much worse than they’d imagined, and he felt the apprehension rolling of his wife in waves. “I’m worried too, B’Ela,” he said softly. “But let’s just wait for Chakotay and Dad.” He stroked her fingers with his own until she let go and gripped his hand, hard.

                The doors opened again, admitting Owen and Chakotay. Tom was sure he’d never seen his father so ashen. And Chakotay… Angry. Very, very angry. Tom couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the man’s expression quite so dark and dangerous. Maybe during the episode with that slimy Devore Inspector. Maybe even before that.

                Everyone in the room quieted. Tom took a quick look around and realized everyone had come to the same conclusion he had: Chakotay was one pissed off man. B’Elanna gripped his hand so hard, Tom’s fingers went numb. “Something’s wrong,” she whispered. “Something has happened.”

                Chakotay held up his hands for attention, although the gesture was unnecessary. “I want to thank you all for coming so early on a Sunday morning. I know the Lieutenants Paris filled each of you in as you arrived, but Admiral Paris has just given me some new information that changes things.” He rubbed his forehead for a moment, as if searching for words. “This isn’t just a simple search and rescue anymore. The abduction of Admiral Janeway and my cousin Kayma…” He swallowed hard. “It was the first stage in a much larger operation. Before we proceed, before you commit to anything, you all need to know: This is now a tactical mission, with full Starfleet backing. And we’re facing a new threat from an old enemy.”

                The words were enough to silence the little remaining chatter. “First, Lieutenant Kim is going to be fine.” A murmur of relief rose up. “When he came to, he was able to identify the abductor. It’s Brant Suder, Lon’s brother.”

                A gasp rose up, and a question came from the back of the room – Sam Wildman. “What does he want with the Admiral and your cousin?”

                “He wanted to get to me,” Chakotay said simply. “Revenge for his brother’s death. He’s just as unbalanced as Lon, and just as dangerous. But he’s not the real problem. It’s the people he’s been working for. He’s just a pawn in somebody else’s game, someone who _does_ want Admiral Janeway—and _Voyager_.”

                Everyone in the room went completely still. Chakotay met each pair of eyes in turn, falling at last on Dalby and Gerron. “We have reason to believe that, whether he knew it or not, Brant was working for an organization called The True Way. He delivered Kathryn and Kayma to Cardassian terrorists, led by Gul Evek.”

                The revelation caused a sensation among Tom’s former Maquis crewmates. Ken Dalby smashed his fist against the nearest console. Gerron’s whole body deflated. Philicia leaned into Sue, hiding her face in her hands. Beside him, B’Elanna trembled with rage.

                Chakotay cleared his throat. The silence that followed was tense. “You all know what that means, and how dangerous this operation will be,” Chakotay continued. “Before I turn the floor over to Admiral Paris, you all need to know: I’m not ordering anyone to undertake this mission. This is strictly voluntary. Starfleet can have a full tactical team at my disposal if I ask for it. So if you want out, now’s the time.” He met Tom’s eyes, and then B’Elanna’s. “I know this dredges up a lot of old memories and anger from a fight you thought was over. And you’ve all made good lives for yourselves here, Starfleet and Maquis alike. Those lives are worth preserving and protecting. So no one in this room will think less of any of you for leaving now.”

                No one moved. Five seconds passed. Ten. Tom thought of Miral, back at his parents’ house. She was probably eating the breakfast they’d left for her, gripping the spoon in her little fist and trying to get even one bite of strained peaches, her favorite, into her mouth. Then he thought of Harry lying alone in the road with a hole in his chest and a neurotoxin coursing through his system. He knew that Chakotay was trying to give them, all of them, a way out.

                But as good as their lives were, Tom knew none of them would take it.

                He looked down at his wife, who nodded once and stepped forward.

                “All due respect, Chakotay,” she said, breaking the charged silence, “but you’re wasting time.”

                “That’s right,” Dalby called out. “Starfleet’ll take forever to move on this. And we’re here _now_.” Tom’s gaze flicked to his father, who wisely chose not to contradict Dalby.

                Gerron stood up straight again, renewed fire in his eyes. “No one messes with our Captain Janeway!”

                “Admiral,” the Delaney sisters said together, and Gerron shrugged.

                “She’ll always be _my_ Captain,” he crowed, and a general shout of assent rose from the group.

                Dalby slapped the younger man on the back and addressed Chakotay again. “Let’s get on with it. Sir.”

                Chakotay glanced at Tuvok and Seven, who raised identical eyebrows at him.  Tuvok inclined his head toward the gathered crew. “I suggest, before the team grows any more restless, you ‘get on with it.’”

                “ _Sir_ ,” Seven added. “I believe the suggestion was, ‘get on with it, _sir_.’”

                Chakotay held up his hands again. “Thank you all,” he said again. “You can’t know how much it means to me, and how much it’ll mean to Kayma and Kathryn, that you’re willing to put yourselves in harm’s way for them.” He stepped aside. “Admiral?”

                Tom watched his father closely. They’d never actually worked together, and as grave as the situation was, Tom was glad to get even a glimpse of Owen Paris, Starfleet Officer, in his natural element. The older man’s face was still ashen, but he looked just as determined as Chakotay. “As some of you may know, the True Way were active before the Dominion War. They believed then that the Federation was the primary threat to Cardassian civilization and advocated a return to an older, more militaristic form of Cardassian government. In 2372, they committed several acts of terrorism against the Federation, including the assassination of two Bajoran politicians and the bombing of the _USS Orinoco_. We thought they had disbanded during the war.”

                He consulted a padd and went on. “We know that several months ago, shortly after your return from the Delta Quadrant, the True Way became active on Cardassia again, attempting to rise to power in the political vacuum left after the Dominion War. They want to return control of Cardassia to the Cardassian Union. And they’re working with the Jem’Hadar to make it happen.”

                Owen paused to let that information sink in. “The True Way is telling the people of Cardassia that _Voyager_ returned to the Alpha Quadrant with Borg technology Starfleet intends to use to destroy its enemies, including Cardassia.”

                A ripple of angry disbelief moved through the room. “But that’s not true,” B’Elanna protested. “ _Voyager_ ’s at Utopia Planitia just doing _nothing_.”

                Owen nodded. “Precisely. But word of your return, and the way you got here, filtered back to Cardassia. They’re a defeated, vulnerable people. The True Way used that little bit of information to play on ordinary citizens’ fears of further devastation. The True Way has been rising steadily. We’ve been watching for signs of further militarization, and hadn’t seen anything worrisome.” The older man consulted the padd again, and sighed. “But Starfleet Intelligence dismissed a source prematurely, it seems. The tip we didn’t take seriously was this: The Jem’Hadar, unknown to the people of Cardassia except those highest in the True Way, are developing a biological weapon. But they don’t have a ship fast enough or powerful enough to deliver it to the Federation.”            

                As all the facts came together in his mind, the bottom dropped out of Tom’s whole universe. “And Harry was hit with a neurotoxin,” he groaned. “A test?”

                Chakotay shook his head once and spoke up. “A plasma weapon that delivered a dose of the neurotoxin. Probably developed by the Cardassians with help from the Jem’Hadar.”

                Tom nodded and turned to the Doc. “Psylosinine?”

                The hologram looked startled for an instant. “Your medical training does you credit, Mister Paris,” he said, and addressed the team at large. “Weaponized psylosinine is a neurotoxin and makes for a very efficient biological weapon. In its purest form, it causes intense pain at the site of the delivery that radiates rapidly throughout the body. The neurological damage spreads along the nervous system. When it reaches the brain, it causes autonomous functions to shut down, culminating in organ failure and death. Fortunately, Mister Kim took a very small amount, and while the pain must have been considerable, the damage was not extensive.”

                Tom breathed a sigh of relief at that, but knew there was more to come. “Natural psylosinine is a neurotransmitter found in the brains and nervous systems of Betazeds,” the Doc went on.

                “ _Healthy_ Betazeds,” Tom corrected.

                The Doc nodded. “That’s correct. Lon Suder’s system was not capable of producing sufficient psylosinine to keep his paracortex functioning properly. Hence his lack of typical Betazed telepathy. Lon’s brother Brant likely has the same pathology.”

                Vorik spoke up for the first time. “Is this how the True Way secured Suder’s cooperation? By supplying synthetic psylosinine?”

                Chakotay nodded. “We think they promised him regular doses of psylosinine and a chance to confront me if he delivered Kathryn – Admiral Janeway. He missed the Admiral on the first try and wound up with Kayma instead. Now he has them both.”

                A slow murmur of grim understanding spread throughout the room. Tom felt B’Elanna’s shoulders slump. “And they wanted Admiral Janeway,” she deduced, “to get to _Voyager_.”

                Chakotay nodded again. “Brant’s a pawn in this. Not blameless,” he added, “and far from innocent, but a pawn.”

                Seven raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re certain they’re going after _Voyager_?”

                “The planetside station on Mars lost contact with _Voyager’s_ dock about half an hour ago,” Owen said. “When I was speaking with the officer in charge just a moment ago, we lost contact with Utopia Planitia altogether. Either the entire facility has been disabled, or a dampening field has been activated. Or,” he said grimly, “the facility has been destroyed.”

                “Have you sent Security to check it out?” Ayala asked.

                “The station has gone dark,” Chakotay answered. “A team is moving in from Jupiter station, but we’re closer, and if Kathryn and Kayma are being held on the ship, we’re more familiar with _Voyager_ than anyone. We’re the best team for the operation. Although,” he addressed the Doc. “I need my Ops man, Doctor. How soon can you have Harry ready to depart?”

                “In three days’ time,” the Doc said with indignation. “Mister Kim’s place is here. He needs to rest and recover.”

                Chakotay frowned. “He knows _Voyager’s_ systems better than I do. We need him. Get him ready.”

                “Out of the question,” the Doc stated flatly. “He stays here.” The Doc turned to Tom. “I cannot believe he wants to force Lieutenant Kim to take part in this operation. Typical lack of judgment where my patients are concerned.”

                Tom patted him on the back and winked at Chakotay. “You’re right, Doc. Harry’ll be fine here at Starfleet Medical. You’re leaving him in good hands.” Out of the corner of his eye, Tom saw Chakotay duck his head to hide his smile. “The Doctors and nurses here will take excellent care of him.”

                “Excellent care?” the Doc spluttered. “ _Here?”_

                B’Elanna took his hand again, and Tom noticed that, now that it was time to act, some of the tension had left her. “You’re going with us, Doc,” she said. “Aren’t you?”

                “Of course, but I--”

                “Then you’ll just have to leave Harry to take his chances with the staff here,” Tom said, “but I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

                The Doc frowned at him, B’Elanna and Chakotay, and then back at him again. “Well played,” he grumbled, and left the room on a wave of soft, knowing laughter.

                Chakotay motioned for silence again. “Thanks to Lieutenant Nicoletti and Ensign Gerron, the _Delta Flyer II_ is ready to launch,” he said. “It’ll be a tight fit, but it’s a short trip to Mars. See Chell and Sharr for gear and equipment. I want everyone armed and on the _Flyer_ in ten minutes.” He met each of their eyes in turn. “You have your orders. Move.”

                There were a few subdued cheers, and then everyone hurried to comply.

                Tom watched his father and Chakotay cross the room to them, both of them quietly serious. Chakotay in particular had a concerned expression on his face. “Tom, B’Elanna,” he began, “you’ve been a great help this morning. But I’ll understand if you don’t want to take this any further.”

                B’Elanna punched him on the shoulder. “Stow it, Chakotay, and tell us what you want us to do.”

                Before the Commander could say anything more, the comm station bleeped. Surprised, everyone in the vicinity turned to check the source of the incoming signal: Bloomington, Indiana.

                Chakotay sighed. “Gretchen. I should probably give her an update.”

                Owen, closest to the console, accepted the incoming call. “You’re on, Commander.”

                Gretchen Janeway’s worried face materialized. _“Commander, I was wondering…”_ She paused and peered at all of them crowded around the comm. _“Well,”_ she said dryly, a lopsided smile appearing on her face, _“I see you’ve gotten the whole gang involved now. Can I assume there’s a plan?”_

                They all nodded. “There’s a plan,” Chakotay said.

_“Is it a good plan?”_

                “It is.”

                Gretchen nodded once, a quick dip of her chin that instantly reminded Tom of his former Captain. _“That’s good enough for me,”_ she said.

                _“But it’s not good enough for me,”_ a thin, reedy voice protested, and Richard Thorpe appeared behind Gretchen’s shoulder. He ignored the entire group and addressed only Owen Paris. _“Admiral, I demand to know what’s being done to recover Kathryn.”_

                Owen’s expression went completely blank. “It’s classified,” he said calmly.

                _“Classified?”_ Richard roared. He pointed at Chakotay. _“This man should not be entrusted with this operation. He’s a_ teacher _. And before that, he was a known enemy of the Federation.”_

                Everyone within earshot lurched toward the screen, howling their collective objection. Owen held up his hand. Tom stared at him, unsure of what his father would say. “And before _that_ , he was one of the finest tacticians in Starfleet’s arsenal.” Tom relaxed. “He’s heading up this operation,” Owen continued, “and he has my complete confidence.”

                Richard Thorpe scowled and leaned toward the screen. Gretchen suddenly wrinkled her nose and moved to the side, out of the picture. _“You listen to me, Chakotay,”_ Thorpe threatened, his thin voice shaking with fury. _“If anything goes wrong, if Kathryn gets hurt, I will hold you personally responsible. I will sue you for every credit you’re worth. I will find you and I will--”_

                With a faint pop, the screen went dark. Wide-eyed, everyone turned to Owen, who removed his hand from the console and shrugged.

                A disbelieving silence settled on the room.

                Tom cleared his throat. “Tuvok?”

                “Yes, Mister Paris?”

                “When we’re done,” he drawled, “when it’s all over and we’ve got the Admiral and Kayma back safely… Will you help Mike and me hold that jackass still so Chakotay can break his nose?”

                Before Tuvok could respond, Chakotay shook his head. “No,” the Commander said quietly, and everyone froze. Tom tensed, until Chakotay looked up with a feral grin. “I think I’d like to chase him first. Make him sweat a little.”

                The whole room exhaled. Tom slapped his old friend on the back. “Then can we hold him?”

                “Then you can hold him,” Chakotay agreed.

                Tom turned to Tuvok. “What’ll it be, Tuvok? Will you help?”

                The Vulcan raised an eloquent eyebrow. “It would be my honor, Mister Paris.”

                B’Elanna crossed her arms and looked up at Chakotay. “Orders, Commander?”

                “Let’s move out,” Chakotay said, one hand resting on the phaser at his hip. “I’m tired of being two steps behind.”

                Tom grinned. It was definitely like old times.  

  -END Part 14-


	15. Chapter 15

** Part 15 **

                The ship was frigid.

                She’d been unoccupied and abandoned for weeks, life support and environmental control scaled back drastically to conserve energy while no one was working on her. Every surface was freezing to the touch, every breath icy in the lungs. Even with the air recyclers and heating systems working again, the stale, musty cold seeped through Kathryn’s light clothing and made her shiver.

                It wasn’t the first time, but being marched under guard through the corridors of her own ship galled Kathryn just as much as ever. The fact that the guards were Cardassians and Jem’Hadar this time made it infuriating on a whole different level, and Gul Evek’s presence was nothing short of surreal. Chakotay had been evading Evek in the Badlands when his Maquis ship had been thrown into the Delta Quadrant. In a way, Evek was a catalyst for everything that had happened to them for the last eight years, both the good and the bad. The thought was bewildering. Kathryn hoped she would be able to share the paradox with Chakotay later, preferably with a glass of wine in hand and a blaze roaring in the fireplace.

                Kathryn shivered again, wishing for the warmth of that fire. Neither the Cardassians nor the Jem’Hadar  seemed to be affected by the cold. Beside her, Kayma rubbed her hands together as best she could while they were still bound. One of the Cardassian soldiers saw the furtive movement of Kayma’s hands and sneered. When the girl paused to blow on her fingertips, Suder jammed his weapon into her back and pushed her ahead of him.

                Kathryn gritted her teeth and kept walking toward main Engineering.

=/\=     

                The _Flyer_ dropped out of warp on the far side of Mars.

                But for the starlight, the darkness was absolute.

                Not a single orbital dock was functioning and all of them, with or without ships in them, were starting to fall from their orbits. The station itself was down to emergency lighting and life support.

                “Power down,” Chakotay ordered.

                “Powering down, aye,” Harry Kim replied. The young man was still ashen and shaky, but he’d boarded the little ship under his own steam and determined to help. The Doc kept a wary eye on him. He’d only agreed to release Kim if he stayed put on the _Flyer_ while the rest of the team boarded _Voyager_. “We’re running silent and adrift.”

                From his place standing behind Tom Paris, Chakotay peered out the front viewport. “Where is she?”

                There was a shift of bodies in the back of the craft as everyone moved to the nearest port. “There,” Dalby said. “The last dock to our portside, the furthest one out. I think that’s her.”

                Chakotay moved to join him and nodded. “Tom, can you nudge us that way?”

                “Aye, sir,” Tom replied. “Prepare to be nudged, everybody.”

                Chakotay braced his hand on the bulkhead and waited for the impulse engine to fire. They were running dark to avoid detection among the dead docks and ships in the area. A split-second’s blast from the impulse engine would give them a bit of momentum toward _Voyager_ while still remaining unnoticed to anyone who wasn’t either staring out a viewport or reading an active scanner.

                At least, that was the assumption. When he’d told Gretchen he’d had a plan, it had only been a half truth. He had a plan to get to Utopia Planitia and _Voyager_ , but the rest was dependent on what they found when they got there.

                The impulse engines fired and the _Flyer_ began to drift in a slightly less aimless way. Chakotay held his breath, watching for other movement in the vicinity.

=/\=

                As long as they kept threatening Kayma, Kathryn knew she would continue to do whatever these terrorists wanted of her. She glanced up at Evek, striding along with a self-satisfied smirk on his gray face.

                He clearly knew it, too.

                Once the Utopia Planitia station was completely disabled, Evek had beamed himself, at least a dozen of his men and the three of them – Suder, Kayma and Kathryn – onto _Voyager_ ’s dark, abandoned Bridge where, with his weapon pressed to Kayma’s head, he’d ordered Kathryn to begin activating the ship’s core systems. She’d thought momentarily of bluffing, feigning memory loss, or just stalling for time. But without backup, a move like that wasn’t just risky. It was pointless, given how outnumbered she was. She had no qualms about dying to keep the ship out of the True Way’s hands, but she wouldn’t sacrifice Kayma, at least not until she had no choice. While they waited for the systems to come online, she still had time and options. So she’d initiated the startup sequence using the new command and release codes issued to her upon the ship’s return to the Alpha Quadrant.

                Very few people had those codes. In addition to herself, Admirals Hayes and Nechayev and the Command-level engineer assigned to the study of all the added-on tech had them. Any of them could have gotten aboard the ship. But of those few people, only Kathryn had all the know-how to get the ship’s engines up and running.

                And of those few people, only Kathryn was useful as bait for Chakotay — who, in turn, was bait for Suder. The True Way had surely discovered his connection to _Voyager_ , supplied him with psylosinine to secure his compliance, and then dangled Chakotay in front of him to get him to go after Kathryn. Suder probably had no idea what he’d gotten himself into, at least not at first.

                Kathryn risked a glance at the man. Despite the biting cold, the Betazed’s face was unusually pale and his brow was damp with sweat. Either he was excited about the prospect of confronting Chakotay – who had to be closing in by now, Kathryn was sure of it – or his dependence on psylosinine was more than simply psychological.

                On the far side of Suder, one of the Jem’Hadar warriors rolled his shoulders and Kathryn caught a glimpse of his ketracel-white delivery tube. The Founders and the Vorta had kept the Jem’Hadar compliant and loyal for generations by genetically engineering their addiction to an enzyme in the ketracel-white. Maybe they’d ensured Suder’s continued compliance with more than just the psylosinine itself. The man had begun to look physically ill. Kathryn wondered if Kayma had noticed it, too, decided she probably had. The girl was observant and had been watching with a clinical eye all along. She’d probably noticed Suder’s predicament even sooner.

                At the end of the corridor, the main Engineering doors opened in front of them. The huge room was still dark and cold, but most of the main consoles had already come to life. A few backup screens were starting to flicker, too, but until Kathryn initiated the startup sequence, the warp core remained inactive.

                Evek stopped walking and turned to the Vorta beside him. “This is the place. Beam it aboard.”

                While Kathryn watched, brow furrowed in confusion, the Vorta stepped away and spoke into his communicator.

                Gul Evek saw her watching and dragged her to the main console. “Power up the warp core,” he ordered. “And no dissembling, Admiral.” He waved at three Cardassians standing by with toolkits. “My engineers will know of any attempt to eject the core or destroy the ship. And he--” Evek gestured toward Suder and Kayma “—will kill her upon my command.”

                Suder puffed out his thin chest and prodded Kayma with the weapon again. Kathryn clenched her jaw and began to initiate the power-up sequence for the warp core.

                She looked up a few seconds later when a shimmer of sparkles caught her eye, then gasped at what she saw.

                She’d expected a vacuum bottle or a bioculture vault. Something to contain the psylosinine before deployment. Instead, a Klingon cloaking device materialized in the middle of the engineering deck.

                Evek meant to cloak the ship before he took it. Cloaked, _Voyager_ would be virtually untraceable, a deadly and invisible weapon used to annihilate the True Way’s enemies, real or imagined.

                Kathryn’s hands stilled on the console.

=/\=

                In the darkness and the silence, the _Flyer_ drifted closer to _Voyager_.

                Gerron spoke up. “Are those Cardassian fighters?” He pointed out the port nearest to him. “Just on the other side of the dock?”

                Chakotay followed his gaze. There was a boxy vehicle hanging near _Voyager_ ­­– probably the vessel used to take Kathryn and Kayma off the planet – and next to it three smaller ships Chakotay recognized. He shuddered. “Tuvok?”

                “Hideki-class fighters,” the Vulcan answered at once. “Crew complement of three to six each.”

                “More if they squeeze,” one of the Delaneys said. “Like us.”

                Chakotay nodded. “So we can assume at least nine, as many as two dozen. Cardassians and Jem’Hadar, and three Vorta, all armed except the Vorta.” He palmed the phaser he wore. “Boarding teams are armed?”

                There was a chorus of “Aye, sir,” and then silence again while they all watched _Voyager_ and the Cardassian ships loom ever closer.

                Chakotay turned to Harry. “Anything?”

                The young man shook his head. “An active scan is too easy to detect.”

                Chakotay frowned. “We need to know if they’re on the ship.”

                Harry fidgeted in his seat, head cocked to one side. “We can probably risk something passive.”

                “Enough to know what we’re dealing with and if they’re trying to power up?”

                Harry turned back to his console. “Aye. I can do that.” He grinned suddenly. “And if the engineering teams left the ship’s scanners the way they were when we disembarked, there might be a sensor gap or three I can take advantage of, too.”

                Chakotay smiled. “That’s why I brought you along, Lieutenant.”

                The Doc scowled. “Against my strenuous objections.”

                “Don’t worry, Doc,” Harry said without looking up. “As much as I’d like to be the one to rescue Kayma, I’m not planning to leave the _Flyer_.”

                Taking a page from Kathryn’s book, Chakotay patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll bring her right to you.” He turned back to the viewport just as Sam Wildman spoke up.

                “They must be aboard.” She nodded toward the window. “Running lights.”

                Chakotay followed her gaze. All along the ship, beacons began to flicker on. A few viewports lit up, too, and someone laughed. “Looks like Kyoto left her lights on again.”

                “Scanning,” Harry said, and they all turned to look at him. “I’m reading lifesigns aboard _Voyager_.  Nine Cardassians, six Jem’Hadar, three Vorta. One Betazed. Two humans.” He hunched over his console. “Lifesigns good. They’re okay.” He looked up at Chakotay and nodded. “They’re both okay.”

                Momentarily allowing himself to experience his profound relief at the words, Chakotay let out a long, slow breath, Then he pulled his mind back into focus. “Ship’s systems?”

                “Active,” Harry answered. “And the warp core is powering up. They must have the Admiral in Engineering.”

                “How long is the power-up sequence?” Chakotay asked. “B’Elanna?”

                “From a cold start?” She shrugged. “About fifteen minutes, but we don’t know when they started the sequence.”

                Chakotay nodded and turned to Tom. “Are we in transporter range?”

                The pilot’s brow furrowed. “Sure, but what about those plasma weapons? If we beamed in next to a Cardassian, couldn’t they just…” He made a phaser shape with his thumb and forefinger, pointed it at Chakotay’s gut and whistled.

                The Doc huffed. “If by that you mean they could disrupt the beam and destabilize the materialization matrix, thereby rending the subject horribly injured at best, or dead at worst, then yes.” He nodded. “They could.”

                “Furthermore, the moment we activated our transporter,” Tuvok said, “they would know we arrived after they disabled the station and the docks.”

                “Thereby negating the effort to run silent and dark,” Seven added. Chakotay quirked an eyebrow at her. “Our cover would be blown.”

                “Thanks, I got that.” Rubbing his chin, Chakotay peered out the viewport again to where _Voyager_ hung, slowly waking up from her long slumber. “We need to get aboard before they engage the warp drive.” He glanced at Owen Paris, seated in the back of the craft. “How long before the _Sagan_ arrives?”

                One of only two starships in the vicinity and the closest by far, the _Sagan_ was making her way in from a training mission in the Kuiper Belt. Before they boarded the _Flyer_ , Admiral Paris had summoned her in to Utopia Planitia. Owen ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that reminded Chakotay of Tom. “She could be here any time, but she’s got the same problem we have. As soon as she turns up, her cover is blown. Evek will know they’re here and put Katie and Kayma in further danger.”

                Chakotay nodded. “Surprise is still our best advantage until we get on board. Then we’ll have knowledge on our side, too.” He leaned over B’Elanna’s shoulder. “Can you open the shuttle bay doors with the prefix code?”

                She looked up at him. “The codes have changed.”

                “You don’t have them?”

                She glared out the viewport. “They’re high-level clearance only. Need-to-know.” He heard the growl of annoyance in her voice. “I had to be escorted on and off, same as everyone else.”

                Everyone in the _Flyer_ turned to look at Owen, who shrugged. “Katie has them. Alynna and Hayes, too, and the lead engineer.”

                “But not you?”

                Owen shook his head. “As my daughter-in-law said, they’re need-to-know. My responsibilities and assignments didn’t include that need.”

                With a frustrated sigh, Chakotay turned his back on _Voyager_ and leaned against the viewport. “We have to get aboard. Ideas? Anyone? How can we--”

                While he watched, everyone in front of him gasped, suddenly wide-eyed at the view behind him. He whirled back to the port. At first he saw nothing amiss. _Voyager_ was still there in her custom dock. The boxy vehicle was there too. And the three Hideki-class fighters…

                They were gone. “What the hell happened?” he demanded. “Tuvok?”

                The Vulcan’s lips pressed together in a thin line, then he gave a small, resigned nod. “Cloaking devices. Probably Klingon in origin.”

                Cloaking devices. The True Way had Jem’Hadar military might at their disposal, the capacity to build biological weapons…and access to cloaking technology.

                Packed to the bulkheads with advanced technology, _Voyager_ was dangerous enough in the wrong hands just as she was. But invisible, with a biological weapon on board, she was an unstoppable weapon. And no one would be more keenly aware of that fact than Kathryn.

=/\=

                “It’s like going blind, isn’t it?”

                “What is?”

                “Losing your ability to read emotions.” The girl’s words, though spoken in a voice barely more than whisper, startled him. Suder forced himself to keep from reacting. “Or maybe it’s closer to going deaf.”

                He tore his gaze away from the hypnotic swirl of blue energy rippling through _Voyager’s_ warp core as it powered up. The girl’s eyes were steady on him. Knowing. The weapon pointed at her heart wavered in his fist. He stilled it with effort.

                “Or maybe it’s more like suddenly losing your ability to speak a language. Everyone around you is still talking, but you can’t understand what they’re saying.” The girl cocked her head to one side. “Touch is a language, you know. A way of communicating emotions, even for non-empaths. Humans use touch to soothe, to comfort…to inspire. To love. To connect on the most basic level.”

                Suder looked away from her quickly, eyes fixed on the warp core again.

                “Humans who lack that connection can develop psychological problems,” she continued. “Anything from simple loneliness to deep psychosis.” 

                Suder gripped the weapon harder. “I’m not human.”

                “It still must be disconcerting for you to lose your ability to read emotions,” the girl said. “When the psylosinine wears off.”

                Suder whipped around to face her, his weapon pointed at her heart.

                The girl raised her chin at him. “That’s how they got you, wasn’t it? They promised regular doses of psylosinine if you brought Admiral Janeway to them.”

                He fought down the urge to grab her; in his current state, he would feel nothing from her. She’d be little more than a mass of dead flesh in his hands, something he’d never been able to stomach, not without regular doses of the neurotransmitter – doses that dried up during and after the occupation of Betazed. “I don’t need you anymore,” he reminded her. “I could kill you now.” He tossed his head at the group of Cardassians and Jem’Hadar clustered around the main engineering console, where Janeway, jaw clenched tight, tapped in command after command. “They wouldn’t care. They wouldn’t even notice.”

                Kayma shrugged. “They wouldn’t, but she would.”

                “She doesn’t care about you,” Suder sneered. “She doesn’t care about anything but her precious ship.”

                “You really believe that?” Kayma glanced over at Janeway, bent over the console, then back at him. “She’s got years of military and tactical training. She could have overpowered you anytime we were in the car. But she didn’t. So what do you think has kept you alive so far?”

                Suder shrugged. “She’s a coward,” he muttered. “She won’t do anything until Chakotay gets here.”

                Kayma laughed. Unable to decipher the emotion behind it, Suder tried to ignore the sound. “They’re not going to wait for Chakotay,” the girl said. “They only used him to get to Kathryn. She’s the one they wanted. They don’t need him. They never did.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “And they don’t need you. You’re just as expendable as I am.”

                Suder gripped the weapon tighter in his fist, his eyes now fixed on the Cardassian engineers. As he watched them install the cloaking device, the girl’s words echoed through his mind.

=/\=

                Chakotay paced the length of the _Flyer_ , adrenaline surging through his system. “Do we have anything that could penetrate that cloak?” he demanded. “Metaphasic scanner? Tachyon detector?”

                B’Elanna shook her head. “We’re not equipped for anything like that.”

                He turned to Seven. “You can’t see anything, can you?”

                “No, Commander.”

                Chakotay’s heart hammered against his ribs. He gripped B’Elanna’s shoulder. “The power-up sequence,” he demanded. “Walk me through it. Where is Kathryn standing? What can she see? We have to let her know we’re here before she does something irreversible.”

                B’Elanna stared at him for a split-second, then her eyes widened with understanding. “Main Engineering, lower level,” she said quickly. “She’s probably at the main console watching the dilithium monitor.”

                “What else is there? Think, B’Elanna.” He turned to address the entire team, who had all gone silent and still. “All of you. How can we get a signal to Admiral Janeway without anyone else noticing it? It has to be subtle and quick, but enough for her to know we’re here.”

                Behind him, Harry snapped his fingers. “A quick EM pulse would do it. There’s a standard-band scanner right next to the monitor.” He smiled, a little color returning to his pale cheeks. “An EM pulse would light it up like Neelix’s longo fruit flambé. She’d notice it, but she could pass it off as part of the power-up if anyone else sees it.”

                Chakotay nodded. “Do it. But make it three pulses. Half a second each, half a second apart.”

                “Aye, sir,” Harry acknowledged, turning back to his console. “Here goes.” He activated the pulse – three times, half a second apart, as ordered.

                Chakotay kept his eyes fixed on _Voyager_ , willing Kathryn to rein in what he knew would be her first impulse at the thought of her ship cloaked and used to wipe out innocent people: To destroy the ship, as quickly as possible. Whether she and Kayma were still on it or not.

-END Part 15-


	16. Chapter 16

** Part 16 **

                Cascading systems failure.

                That’s all it would take.

                The automated self-destruct wouldn’t work even if it were still active. That sequence required voice input from two Command-level officers.

                But a simple cascading systems failure…

                She could initiate it from the main engineering console. A little nudge here, an input there, and it would lead to a warp core breach and eventual detonation. Instead of becoming an undetectable and almost unstoppable weapon in the hands of Cardassian terrorists, _Voyager_ would die a swift and painless death.

                Kathryn’s hands hovered over the console. It was a no-win situation. As soon as the ship’s warp core was active, Gul Evek would surely dispose of her and Kayma and Suder, cloak the ship and take it back to Cardassia – or to his first target, whatever it was. She had to stop this madness before he could get away.

                She peeked over at Kayma. If the girl could get Suder’s phaser, she might have a fighting chance to get to a pod and escape the explosion. But Suder surely wouldn’t give the weapon up without a struggle, and Kathryn wasn’t sure Kayma could overpower him. In the confusion, one of the Cardassian engineers might even realize what Kayma and Kathryn were up to and stop the plan.

                No, this was the only way. Cascading systems failure, warp core breach, and death.

                Kathryn swallowed around the lump in her throat.

                Chakotay would be devastated to lose his young cousin…to lose them both. He was a career military man, though, and a tactician. He would understand why she’d had no choice but to destroy the ship before he could rescue them.

                _I’m sorry, Chakotay_ , she thought, and began inputting an additional set of commands. _But I’m out of time_.

                “I think we’ve got it, sir.” The lead Cardassian engineer turned to Gul Evek and pointed toward the cloaking device, now connected to one of the auxiliary control panels. “As soon as the warp drive is online, we should be able to activate the cloak.”

                “And we’ll be undetectable to their sensors?”

                “Yes, sir.”

                “What are the limits?”

                The engineer inclined his head. “This new prototype draws power from the warp core, not the deflector systems. So we’ll still be shielded and able to fire while cloaked.” He shrugged. “The only limit is the slight phase variance above warp 8.”

                “I doubt this old thing can still go that fast anyway,” Evek sneered. Kathryn glanced up in time to see a feral grin cross Gul Evek’s features. “But we’ll be invisible. We could cruise to the target at sublight and no one would even know we’re there.”

                Kathryn gritted her teeth and continued to input commands.

                Chakotay would be all right in time. B’Elanna and Tom would look after him. Maybe he’d resign and go home to his sister. Find a woman, get married, start a family. Learn to be happy again.

                Remembering his obvious joy from the night before, Kathryn blinked away tears.

                Some other woman would love him for the rest of his life.

                Kathryn bit back a sob, entered the final command and took one last, lingering look around the engineering deck of her first and last command.

                _Good-bye_ , she thought, and lowered her hands.

                The instant before her fingertips met the cold surface of the console, the EM monitor to her left caught her eye. She looked up sharply just as it  flashed three times with a warm, welcome glow before it went dark and inactive again.

                Kathryn froze, trying to make sense of what she’d seen.

                Three beats, half a second each, half a second apart.

                It meant something. It had to.

                Three beats, half a second each.

                Utopia Planitia was dark and silent. The rest of the orbital docks were dead. There were no active ships in the area, aside from _Voyager_ and the Cardassian fighters. But the EM scanner had picked up a sign of activity.

                A sign. A signal.

                Three beats.

                _Chakotay._

=/\=

                “How long?”

                “Eight minutes, seventeen seconds.”  B’Elanna twisted around in her seat to look at him. “They’ve got to be close to having the warp drive online.”

                Chakotay clenched his fists. “We’ll have to risk the transporters. Someone’s got to open the bay doors so we can get inside before they go to warp.”

                Owen Paris spoke up. “Why take the _Flyer_ aboard, Commander? Why not leave her drifting here?”

                Chakotay didn’t even bother to look at the Admiral. He was too tired of explaining himself to care whether it was disrespectful or not. “If Gul Evek takes _Voyager_ to warp while she’s cloaked, we have no way of knowing where we’ll wind up. If we can’t retake _Voyager_ , we’ll need a way to escape under our own power in case the _Sagan_ can’t follow us in time.” It was good practice in the Alpha Quadrant, but it was Standard Operating Procedure in the Delta Quadrant, and a hard habit to break: As often as possible, know your means of getting out of a situation before you step into it. They’d never been able to depend on outside help in the Delta Quadrant and had learned from experience to preemptively help themselves.

                A little voice in the back of his mind whispered: _And in this case, if_ Voyager _herself doesn’t survive, we’ll need a lifeboat._

                Chakotay shook off his suspicions and continued. “We have to take the _Flyer_ because all the ship’s shuttles were removed for redeployment right after we returned.”

                “The ones that were left, that is,” Tom muttered. B’Elanna smacked him hard on the upper arm.

                Chakotay ran a hand through his hair. “We’ll send in a team of two to open the doors. Tom, you’ll fly us in and then join the Bridge team. We’ll lose the element of surprise, but it’ll create enough of a diversion to beam the rest of the boarding teams onto _Voyager_. Harry, you’ve got the transporter.”

                “Aye, sir.” The young man rose and headed toward the _Flyer’s_ small transporter pad. “Bridge, deflector control and main engineering coordinates loaded. Every team is equipped with a padd showing safe routes from the beam-in point to the hostiles’ positions.”

                Chakotay nodded. Torres, Seven, Sue Nicoletti and Vorik would go to deflector control. They’d detected no hostiles there, but that’s where the cloak was most likely to be. Tuvok, Tom, Sam Wildman, and Swinn were headed for the Bridge. Chakotay would lead Mike, both Delaneys Dalby and Jarvin to engineering. Smaller teams were ready to deploy to other key areas of the ship, including the brig, where the injured and captured Cardassians and Jem’Hadar would be transported. Harry, Owen and a handful of others would stay behind to defend the _Flyer_ in case they needed that lifeboat.

                “I’ll need a team of two to open the bay doors first,” Chakotay said. “There’s no one guarding the bay right now, but you’ll probably only have about thirty seconds before you’ve got company. Volunteers?”

                Mike Ayala and Tuvok stepped forward. Chakotay almost smiled. He should have predicted that. He hated to take them off their respective teams, but they were best suited to begin the operation. “Thank you both,” he said. “We’ll send you--”

                “Wait,” the Doc said, and everyone in the _Flyer_ turned to stare at him. “I’ll open the doors. These hostiles probably don’t know what I am,” he said, very calmly. “I can go in alone, open the doors, and keep the hostiles diverted long enough to ensure the _Flyer’s_ safe docking. Then I can stay and help defend our position.”

                Chakotay’s eyebrows rose. It was as good a plan as his – probably better, even, since Mike and Tuvok were vulnerable to the plasma weapon, but only a lucky shot to the holoemitter could take the Doc out. “Are you sure?”

                “Very.”

                “All right,” Chakotay agreed. “Grab a phaser and get ready to go.”

                The Doc nodded once and joined Harry. Chakotay turned back to Torres. “Time?”

                “Eleven minutes. We’ve got to do this now.”

                Chakotay rubbed his chin. “I just wish I knew if Kathryn got my signal.”

                B’Elanna looked up. “Do you really think she’d destroy the ship?” she asked quietly, for his ears alone.

                “If she thought she was without backup and they were about to take it?” He shrugged. “In a Vulcan heartbeat.”

                “The auto-destruct has been disabled and she’d need you to start the sequence anyway,” B’Elanna reassured him.

                Chakotay held his breath for an instant, debating whether or not to reveal the last bit of the puzzle to B’Elanna. “We discussed it early on,” he finally said, very softly. “We both know half a dozen other ways to destroy the ship alone if we had to.” B’Elanna’s mouth fell open. Chakotay nodded toward _Voyager_. “She’s probably thinking about starting a cascading systems failure. I know I would be, in her place.”

                Panicked, B’Elanna whirled back to her console. “I’ll send the signal again.”

                Chakotay was about to stop her, afraid that a second set of pulses would attract too much notice, when _Voyager’s_ nacelles suddenly lit up, capturing both his attention and B’Elanna’s. Two flares, half a second each, half a second apart.   

                _Kathryn._

                “That’s not part of the power-up,” B’Elanna said.

                Chakotay smiled. “No, it’s not,” he said. “But I think the Admiral knows we’re here.” He turned to the back of the craft and nodded to Harry and the Doc. “You’re on, Doc,” he said. “Energize.”

=/\=

                “Psylosinine isn’t addictive, but you’ve got withdrawal symptoms, don’t you?”

                The girl simply would not stop talking. Suder ground his teeth together and tried to tune her out, but her voice just kept droning on.

                “Nausea, headache, tremors. It probably gets worse the longer you go between doses. Insomnia. Panic. Paranoia. Hallucinations.”

                Suder ran a hand over his sweaty face and willed himself to stop listening.

                “That’s how they keep the Jem’Hadar in line. Did you know that?” The girl’s voice washed over him. “They’re genetically engineered to be addicted to the drug the Vorta provide. They could have added something to the psylosinine to make you dependent on it. Dependent…and compliant. Because this isn’t really like you, is it?”

                Suder gasped. “Stop it,” he ground out. “Stop talking.”

                “They make suggestions, you carry them out,” the girl went on. “And afterwards, you can’t remember what you did. Or you can remember…but you can’t believe you did it. Can you?”

                _The things he’d seen…the things he’d_ done _…all for the next dose…_

                How did she know?

                “Do you even realize what they’re planning?” The girl took a step toward him.  “They’re going to use _Voyager_ to deploy a biological weapon, made from the very psylosinine you’re craving right now. Ironic, isn’t it? You’ll be an accessory to mass murder. Is that really how you mean to honor your brother?”

                “I mean to avenge him,” Suder whimpered.

                “Wouldn’t it be better,” the girl said softly, “to honor his memory by getting the help you both needed, but he never got?”

                Confused, anguished and so tired, Suder finally looked at her through streaming eyes.

                Her gaze was steady and unflinching. Even without the benefit of the psylosinine, Suder recognized her compassion. “You can be rehabilitated,” she whispered. “You can be helped. And all this,” she waved her bound hands at herself and at Admiral Janeway, “everything you’ve done today can be redeemed.”

                The weapon wavered in Suder’s trembling hand.

=/\=

                Eyes fixed on the forward viewport, Tom hunched over the _Flyer’s_ navigation controls.

                Thirty seconds had passed since the Doc had beamed onto _Voyager_. The hostiles were probably already closing on his position, and the shuttle bay doors were still closed.

                “What’s taking him so long?” Chakotay muttered.

                “He’s probably talking them to death,” Dalby answered.

                “I’m ready for the first team,” Harry said. “Just give the word, Commander.”

                Tom tapped his fingers on the edge of the console. “Come on, Doc. We don’t have all day.”

                “We’ve got less than a minute,” B’Elanna said. “The warp drive just came online.”

                Chakotay growled something low and harsh. Every universal translator on the vessel emitted a confused whine. Mike Ayala, Ken Dalby and both Delaneys just chuckled. “B’Elanna,” he continued, “take your team in next.”

                B’Elanna started to protest, but Chakotay shook his head. “If they’ve got a cloak, you’re the best person to disable it. It’ll be in deflector control. There’s nothing more you can do here. Go.”

                Tom turned away from the viewport long enough to grasp the hand she reached out to him. “I’m going to be fine,” he said, “and so are you. See you soon.”

                She leaned down, kissed him on the cheek and darted to the back of the _Flyer_.

                Ten more seconds passed. The doors were still closed. “You better go, Chakotay,” Tom said quietly. “Or she’s going to get away.”

                “You get to the Bridge and figure out where they’re taking the ship,” Chakotay said, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll pilot us in and then go to Kathryn.”

                Tom nearly laughed out loud. “Get out of here, you stubborn _p’taQ_. The Admiral’s waiting for you, and you’re crazier than I thought if you think I’m going to let you handle these controls. Go.” He licked his lips. “If those doors aren’t open in ten more seconds, I’m going to blow a hole in them anyway.”

                Chakotay squeezed his shoulder briefly and headed to the transporter pad. Tom glanced at the sensor readout, now set for an active scan of _Voyager_ ’s systems. The warp core was powered and the ship ready to go FTL. Tom swore under his breath and reached for the _Flyer’s_ phaser controls. He didn’t want to depressurize the bay without knowing whether or not the atmospheric shielding was online, but he was on the verge of having no choice.

                Just as he was about to blow the promised hole in the bay doors, they started to roll open, and the _Flyer’s_ comm squealed to life. _“Now would be a good time,”_ the Doc said calmly, over the sound of phaser fire. “ _At your earliest convenience, Mister Paris, and I’ll close the doors behind you.”_

                “Way to go, Doc,” Tom whooped. As soon as the doors were sufficiently open, he sent the _Flyer_ darting into the shuttle bay.

                The doors had barely resealed when _Voyager’s_ warp drive engaged and carried them away from Mars.

=/\=

                Kathryn stepped away from the engineering console. “The drive is online and powered,” she said, and Gul Evek turned away from the cloaking device to face her. “You’re free to go to warp, although I have no idea what that thing,” she nodded to the mass of equipment connected the auxiliary control, “will do to our warp field when it’s powered up.”

                Evek grinned his feral grin again. “Fortunately, I know.” With a wave of his phaser, he sent her to join Kayma and Suder.

                Kathryn continued to watch him while he reached for his comm and consulted with more of his operatives. “Is the course laid in?” he asked.

                A less-smug voice, presumably from the Bridge, answered him. _“The course is set, Gul, but we’re detecting transporter activity near this ship’s…shuttle bay, I think it is. Sir.”_

                Evek frowned. “Someone beamed aboard?”

                Kathryn saw Kayma’s eyes widen. She shook her head and put a finger to her lips.

                _“Yes, Gul,”_ the voice continued. _“Or…_ something _. A very small piece of equipment. It looks like…a single holoemitter.”_

                Kathryn smothered a guffaw. _Oh, Chakotay, you do have style._

                “What’s going on?” Kayma whispered. “Is he here?”

                “He’s here. It won’t be long now. Stay alert.” She inclined her chin toward Suder, who was barely paying attention to anything around him anymore. “Is he all right?”

                Kayma shook her head. “Withdrawal. And I’ve been trying to convince him he can be rehabbed.”

                Kathryn cocked her head to one side, watching him. He was pale and shaky, and looked to be on the verge of tears or serious illness or both. “Could the addiction have caused him to behave irregularly?”

                “Definitely. Depending on what’s been added to the psylosinine, he may not be responsible for his behavior at all.”

                Slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal, Kathryn took a step toward the man. “She’s right, you know,” she murmured to him. He looked up at her, eyes unfocused. “If they’ve engineered an addiction that caused you to behave erratically, you’ll be recommended for rehabilitation and counseling. You’ll be held accountable for your actions, of course, but your sentence will be considerably lightened.”

                Before Suder could answer, the disembodied voice erupted from Evek’s comm again. _“There’s been more transporter activity, Gul!”_ the voice shouted. _“And now the shuttle bay doors are opening. There’s a small ship docking.”_

                “Go to warp,” Evek shouted. “And engage the cloak.” He turned and leveled his weapon at Kathryn’s head. “What have you done, Janeway?” he growled.

                Kathryn folded her bound hands in front of her and smiled.

-END Part 16-


	17. Chapter 17

** Part 17 **

                The fear before the fight.

                He’d almost forgotten it.

                After he’d imparted all the mission criticals to his team leads, after he’d activated his tactical comm set and checked all his equipment for readiness one last time, in the strange, suspended moment between action and inaction, Chakotay felt the fear steal over him like a shadow.

                In the classroom, it was easy to rationalize the feeling as nothing more than pre-mission jitters. _Yes_ , he could admit to his students. _Yes, I get them. And so will you._ He could give examples from his own varied experiences and help them strategize ways to deal with their anxieties. _Channel your energy into preparation_ , he could say. _Plan for every contingency. Leave less to chance, and you’ll have less to fear._

                It was a fine exercise…in the abstract.

                In practice it was rarely effective for him.

                All the planning in the Universe couldn’t allay the dread that he’d overlooked some crucial detail that could get them all killed. As he stepped up onto the _Flyer’s_ transporter pad, the fear before the fight seeped through his clothing and sank into his skin.

                The anxiety was not for his own safety. He was no stranger to pain, and he had no particular dread of death. No, ahead of a dangerous mission, he feared for the safety of his team. He feared for those he’d been sent to assist or protect or rescue. He feared for those he might not be able to save.

                Most of all, in this moment, he feared for Kathryn and Kayma.

                As soon as _Voyager_ went to warp, Kathryn and Kayma would be expendable. If Gul Evek held true to form, he surely planned to neutralize them before he moved on to the next phase of his plot. Chakotay knew that their window of time in which to operate was small to begin with, but as soon as Evek detected the rescue party’s presence, that window would surely narrow quickly.

                The notion that Kathryn and Kayma could be hurt or worse by Gul Evek filled him with cold, dark rage. Over the years he had worked hard to temper his fury toward Cardassians, despite  everything they’d taken from his family. But if they took Kathryn and Kayma from him now…

                Eyes closed against the anger churning inside him, he inhaled until his lungs could take no more, paused to find an uneasy balance, and exhaled slowly. Calmer and more centered, but no less fearful for those he loved, Chakotay opened his eyes. “Energize.”

                Harry nodded once in reply. “Energizing.”

                His team materialized in a dark, deserted corridor one section to starboard from the entrance to main engineering’s upper deck. An active scan had assured them that the hostiles were clustered on the lower deck. Chakotay’s team would enter from above, giving them a distinct tactical advantage in addition to the element of surprise – provided that Evek and his men hadn’t already detected their presence. By now, even someone inexperienced with Starfleet technology could have noticed the transporter activity aboard _Voyager_ , and the attempt to open the shuttlebay doors.

                He reached up to activate the tactical comm in his ear. “We’re in, Harry,” he murmured.

                No answer.

                Chakotay frowned. Harry wasn’t the by-the-book officer he’d been at the beginning of their journey, but he should have at least acknowledged the hail. Before he could comm Harry a second time, the deck beneath Chakotay’s feet rumbled – a telltale sign that the warp drive had engaged, and the ship was now FTL. He swallowed hard. If the _Flyer_ hadn’t docked yet, he and his teams would be stranded along with Kathryn and Kayma. “Harry?” he tried again.

                The comm crackled to life. _“_ Flyer _is safely on board, sir,”_ Harry replied. Chakotay let out a relieved breath. “ _We’re cruising at warp 6. Beta team just beamed in. All teams are now in place, and the Doc’s got company outside the shuttlebay.”_

                “Acknowledged,” Chakotay said. “I trust you to defend that position, Lieutenant.”

                Owen Paris’s voice cut in. _“We’ll be fine, Commander. You just bring Katie and Kayma in safely and we’ll keep the Flyer running for your return. Good luck, son.”_

                “Thank you, Admiral.” He glanced behind him to make sure the rest of his team had materialized safely. All five of them nodded their readiness back to him. “Team leads, check in.”

_“Tuvok here, Commander. We are ready to enter the Ready Room and the Bridge, and await your command.”_

                “Acknowledged.” That team’s position had been his idea. The Cardassians and Jem’Hadar might have noticed the Ready Room entrance onto the Bridge, but unless they had a full set of the ship’s schematics, they probably didn’t know about the back entrance to the Ready Room. “Any company yet?”

_“No, Commander.”_

                Harry’s voice cut in again. _“They’re headed your way, Tuvok. You too, Chakotay.”_

                Chakotay glanced up and down the corridor. Nothing yet. He nodded to Ayala and Dalby, who hefted their phaser rifles and moved in opposite directions to scout the surrounding corridors, leaving Chakotay with both Delaneys and Jarvin. “B’Elanna?” he asked.

                Torres’s puzzled voice entered the conversation _. “We’re outside deflector control, but we’re still not showing anybody here.”_ She hesitated. _“Seven and I want to take a look. Maybe they don’t have a cloak at all.”_

                Seven jumped in. _“If there is no cloak here, we can move on to our secondary objective.”_

                Chakotay nodded to himself. Without a cloak to disable, Torres and Seven could start looking for the bioweapon. “We’ll wait. Alpha and Beta teams, hold your positions. B’Elanna, go on in.”

                _“Aye, sir,”_ B’Elanna answered. _“Stand by.”_ He heard her comm click to the open position so that the rest of her team could hear. _“Gamma team, let’s move.”_

                Chakotay closed his eyes and tamped down a wave of fear for his old friend, Kathryn’s protégée and the rest of their team. He listened carefully to the open comm line. There was the hiss of an opening door, and then…nothing.

                He counted to ten slowly. “B’Elanna?” he whispered.

                _“Gamma team, stand down.”_ B’Elanna sighed. _“It’s not here, Chakotay. There’s_ nothing _here. This room hasn’t been touched since we disembarked. The fighters must be the only ships equipped with cloaks.”_

                Chakotay stood very still, thinking, trying to remember everything he’d ever known about Gul Evek. He shook his head. “No, Evek’s too shrewd not to give himself every tactical advantage. He wouldn’t go after something this size unless he knew he could conceal it. The cloak has to be here somewhere.”

                Seven again. _“Should we commence our search for the bioweapon?”_

                He was about to send Gamma team to weapons control, where the bioweapon would likely be readied for deployment, when the hair on the back of his neck stood up and a wave of nausea washed over him. Beside him, Megan and Jenny swayed and Jarvin leaned against the wall. The nausea passed as quickly as it had come, but it was still disconcerting. “What the hell was that?” Chakotay demanded.

                The comm was silent for several seconds, then Harry’s frantic voice cut in. _“We’re cloaked,”_ he said. _“Did you feel it go online, Commander?”_

                Chakotay wiped sweat off his forehead. “Yes, we felt it. Didn’t you?”

                _“No, sir. You felt it because…”_ The younger man hesitated _. “Sir, you’re closest to the field generator.”_

                Chakotay’s shoulders sagged. His primary objectives from the outset had been to get his team aboard before the warp drive engaged while Paris docked the _Flyer_ if possible, then disable the cloak before Evek could activate it. All along he’d assumed—due to his own experience and B’Elanna’s reassurances—that the cloak would be in deflector control. He’d never even entertained the idea that it could be anywhere else. This, then, was the crucial detail he’d missed. “It’s in engineering, isn’t it,” he said flatly.

                _“Yes, sir,”_ Harry replied. _“It must be getting its power directly from the warp core.”_

                Chakotay closed his eyes and leaned against the bulkhead. Not only was the ship cloaked, the warp drive might be compromised. “What does that  mean for the warp field? B’Elanna?”

                _“I don’t know,”_ she answered. _“I’d have to see how the field is aligned in relation to the warp field, how it’s using power, where the--”_

                “Acknowledged, B’Elanna,” Chakotay huffed. “You need to see it.”

                The comm went silent as all the team leads awaited his orders. Cloaked and cruising at warp 6 to an unknown destination, _Voyager_ , their home for seven long years, was now nothing more than a deadly and unpredictable weapon. The _Sagan_ couldn’t follow until the _Voyager_ crew could comm their position, which would surely give away their presence to any Cardassians and Jem’Hadar who happened to be listening. Those listening ears could either be on the ship…or on the three Hideki-class fighters, which were likely cloaked and cruising alongside _Voyager_. Even though Chakotay wanted to kick himself for his careless planning, the fact that the cloak was in engineering really only complicated matters slightly. Kathryn was there; she’d surely kept a watchful eye on its installation and probably had formed a theory about the best way to disable it without destabilizing the warp field. If she needed B’Elanna’s and Seven’s help, she’d ask for it when the time came. Their secondary mission criticals hadn’t changed drastically: Get Kayma to safety, figure out where the ship was going, stop it and wait for the _Sagan_.

                “Harry,” he said, “beam Gamma team to weapons control.”

                _“I’d love to,”_ Harry said in a low, tight voice, _“but that cloak is playing hell with my sensors and transporter controls. Also…”_ Chakotay heard Owen Paris shouting in the background, and the sound of heavy weapons fire. _“I’m a little busy at the moment, sir.”_

                “Right. B’Elanna?”

_“Acknowledged. We’ll be there in five minutes. Ten, if we encounter any hostiles. Don’t wait for us, though. You guys go ahead and start the operation.”_

                Tom’s voice entered the comm chatter. _“You be careful, B’Elanna.”_

                _“We will,”_ she said softly. _“And you keep your tailgate up, Flyboy.”_

                In spite of the situation’s gravity, Chakotay smiled to himself. He had no idea what that meant, and he was pretty sure he didn’t want to know. He looked up and realized Mike and Ken hadn’t returned. “Alpha team, check in.”

                _“Ayala here. Making my way back to your position.”_

                “Any activity?”

_“No, sir. This end of the corridor is still unguarded. They must be at the upper entrance to engineering, on Dalby’s side.”_

                “Not anymore,” a cheerful voice answered, and Dalby emerged from the shadows holding up three plasma weapons. “Two Cardies and a Jem’Hadar, bagged and tagged.”

                Chakotay smiled a little at the archaic phrase. “They’re neutralized?”

                Ken nodded. “Out cold, with transporter tags on their backs. Harry can beam them to the brig when he’s not so busy.”

                Chakotay took one plasma weapon and clipped it to his belt, waving Dalby to give one to Mike and keep the other for himself.  “Beta team, engage.”

                _“Acknowledged,”_ Tuvok said. _“Beta team is underway.”_

                Chakotay hefted his phaser rifle and nodded to his own team. “Let’s go.”

                With one ear open for comm traffic from the other teams and his own team falling in behind him, Chakotay crept down the dark corridor, relieved to finally be on the move again.

                It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d snuck through these passageways in search of an enemy bent on destruction, usually Kathryn’s or the ship’s, or both. Over the years the two had become inextricably intertwined in his head. Kathryn and _Voyager_ , _Voyager_ and Kathryn. By the time they reached the Alpha Quadrant, he rarely thought of one without the other. All these months later, he was only beginning to separate his feelings for her from his feelings about the ship and the journey and everything that had happened to them during those seven long years. He’d had to distance himself from her in order begin to understand himself again, and her, and what they could be together.

                At a bend in the corridor, he stopped and listened. Nothing.

                Chakotay signaled his team to keep moving .

                His distance from Kathryn had helped him find his bearings without her, but had left her vulnerable. No one, not Starfleet Security, not Owen Paris, and certainly not Richard Thorpe, could defend her the way he could. She had very little regard for her own safety, but from the beginning he’d had enough for both of them. At the very least, he should have used their friendship as an excuse to check up on the security of her townhouse. He would insist on doing so as soon as this mess was resolved. He’d go over the place centimeter by centimeter. And then he’d go over his own. He was not nearly as high-value a target as Kathryn, but he’d been a potential target already. It could happen again. It would almost _certainly_ happen to Kathryn again.

                The fear stirred again and sank into his bones. He tamed it with effort. They would be all right. Kathryn was quick and smart. She’d kept herself alive this long, and if he couldn’t shield Kayma himself, Kathryn would have been his first choice to do so. Not because she was physically imposing – she wasn’t – but she was tougher than she looked, and fiercely protective. Chakotay almost smiled, thinking of all the times she’d charged into a situation over his objections, particularly if she thought the act would save one of her own crew.

                The memory of her taking Kes in her arms and walking into what should have been certain death seized him, and he almost stumbled over his own feet. He’d been at once terrified for her and enchanted by her, and realized that, months after he thought he’d put New Earth behind him, he was still desperately in love with her.

                He would tell her. If they all got out of this alive, he promised himself. He would tell her _everything._

                He stopped just shy of tripping the sensors for the main engineering doors and held up his hand. Silently, his team filled in behind him, Mike Ayala to his left, both Delaneys in the middle, Jarvin and Dalby bringing up the rear.

                He turned slightly toward Mike. “How many?” he whispered.

                Ayala consulted the team’s tricorder. “Four Cardassians, three Jem’Hadar, one Vorta, one Betazed,” he said, just as softly. “They’re all on the lower deck. Kayma and Admiral Janeway are there, too. The Cardassians, Suder and the Jem’Hadar are all armed with the plasma weapon.”

                Chakotay tightened his hands around the phaser rifle. “Let’s go,” he said, tripped the door sensor and stepped lightly onto the upper deck.

                The first figure he saw was Gul Evek, with his weapon extended and locked on his target: Kathryn, chin raised in defiance, a slight smile playing on her lips. Kayma, eyes wide, cowered behind her. In an instant the fear before the fight flowed out of him, leaving behind only the will to win.

=/\=

                The device set her teeth on edge.

                Kathryn had never encountered a cloak that took its power directly from the warp core, although she knew it was theoretically possible. She had some limited experience with more typical cloaks, the kind that drew power from the main deflectors. They tended to be unstable and  therefore reasonably easy to detect, if you knew what to look for. They also limited a ship’s capabilities while cloaked to very little more than propulsion and navigation.

                This Cardassian prototype, though. This was something else entirely. The power of it was palpable. As soon as the engineer had activated it, everyone in the room – Human, Cardassian, Betazed, Vorta and Jem’Hadar – had swayed slightly. Suder, none too steady on his feet to begin with, had almost collapsed. Evek’s weapon had wavered slightly, but not enough for Kathryn to try to seize it. It remained pointed at her head.

                “What have you done?” Evek demanded again.

                Kathryn shrugged. “I’ve been under guard since your friend Brant so kindly removed me from my house last night. What could I have done?”

                Evek’s thin lips tightened against his teeth. “It’s Chakotay, isn’t it?” The Cardassian cursed under his breath. “We were supposed to be away before he got here.”

                Behind her, Suder gasped, finally grasping the truth of the situation. Evek sneered at him. “Looks like you’ll get your revenge on the Maquis after all, Suder. You’re a lucky man.”

                “I wouldn’t call it luck, Evek,” a familiar voice rang out from above and behind Kathryn, and a wave of such profound relief washed over her that she almost had to close her eyes. The situation was still perilous, but now that her right-hand man had arrived, the chances of surviving it had increased exponentially.

                Before she could turn to look at him, Chakotay shouted out something she couldn’t understand, but was unmistakably a command. Behind her, Kayma gasped and responded in the same tongue. Then the girl grabbed her and yanked her down. They both hit the deck with a thud and Kayma shoved her behind a side console.

                “Kayma,” Kathryn gasped, “what are you--”

                “He said to get down and take cover, and you said to obey,” the girl hissed. “So I’m obeying.”

                “Lower  your weapons!” Chakotay shouted. “We’ve got all of you covered.” Kathryn finally twisted her neck around to find him leaning over the upper deck’s railing, his phaser rifle steady in his hands and trained on Evek.

                He was dressed in sleek, black tactical gear with a state-of-the art comm set in his ear and his pockets bulging with extra equipment. Plasma charges, probably, hand phasers, maybe even a blade or two. He looked tired but determined and very focused—an expression she’d seen often enough in the Delta Quadrant—and in all the years they’d known each other Kathryn had never been quite so glad to see him.

                Ayala, Dalby, Jarvin and both Delaneys spilled through the entrance behind him and moved  toward the staircases. Kathryn turned and peered over the top of the console in time to see Gul Evek hesitate, clearly trying to decide whether to fire on Chakotay or duck down to fire on her. Two of the engineers had had time to draw their weapons, and the three Jem’Hadar had never lowered theirs since the operation had begun. The Vorta stood to one side, a slight smile on his pale face.

                “Weapons down!” Chakotay shouted again, now making his own way toward the staircase and the lower deck. “My teams are all over the ship, Evek. Bridge, weapons control, the shuttle bay…” Kathryn did a quick bit of mental math. Chakotay wouldn’t have let anyone go into an unsecured area alone. In addition to the team in engineering, he must have brought  at least half a dozen others with him, and of course the Doc. She gave herself a mental nod. A dozen _Voyagers_ would surely be able to retake the ship.

                “Let’s do this the easy way,” Chakotay continued. “You stand down, turn over control of the ship to us, and we’ll take you back to the Federation Council for trial. Nice and clean. Nobody gets hurt.”

                Kathryn bit her lip, eyes fixed on the Cardassian. Evek wasn’t likely to surrender, even knowing he was pinned down and cut off from the rest of his operatives. If anything, that knowledge might make him even more dangerous.

                Evek raised his chin. “A Federation trial?” He jeered. “Your Federation will never reveal the treachery of this ship’s true purpose. A Federation trial could only be a show trial.”

                “Maybe,” Chakotay conceded. “Would you rather I turn you over to the Cardassian government – the legitimate one?”

                “There is no legitimate Cardassian government,” Evek ground out. “Your Federation has seen to that. Your Federation recognizes no governments but the puppet governments it puts in place after its illegal conquests.” The Gul gave a low chuckle. “But you know that all too well, don’t you, _Maquis_?”

                Kathryn drew in a sharp breath and turned to watch Chakotay continue to descend the stairs, his lips pressed together in a thin, tight line. Equally grim-faced, Dalby, Ayala and Jenny Delaney fanned out behind him. Jarvin and Megan Delaney, both with packs strapped to their backs, moved a step toward the console where Kathryn and Kayma had taken cover, but stopped when the Vorta ordered his Jem’Hadar warriors to cover them.

                “Deep down, you sympathize with me,” Evek continued. “Don’t you, Maquis? You know exactly what it feels like to see your home sold out by an authority you trusted, a government that promised to protect you. A corrupt government, Chakotay, rotten to its center. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”

                “I haven’t forgotten,” Chakotay said quietly.

                “And you haven’t forgiven. Have you, Maquis?”

 

 

                Heart pounding against her ribs, Kathryn sank down with her back against the console. She’d forgotten just how shrewd Gul Evek could be. Every word he uttered was chosen carefully, calculated to slash Chakotay like the flick of a blade. Beside her, Kayma wiped away tears.     

                “Tell me, Commander,” Evek said evenly, almost pleasantly. “How much of your life have you lost because of the Federation’s betrayal? Seven years in the Delta Quadrant, wasn’t it? And before that, all those years in the Maquis.”

                In front of her, Kathryn saw Suder sway on his feet.

                “But it wasn’t just time you lost, was it?” Evek continued. “How much of your family did you lose? Assorted aunts and uncles and cousins, I assume. Are those the right words? Aunts, uncles, cousins? And your father? He’d be alive today if it weren’t for the Federation, wouldn’t he?” The Cardassian sighed with satisfaction. “And now these two. Your Admiral and your…daughter?” The Cardassian chuckled softly. “No, you haven’t had time to have a daughter, not with all the time you’ve given to Starfleet. Whoever she is, she’s important to you, isn’t she?’

                “Enough, Evek,” Chakotay growled.

                Kathryn looked up and caught Suder’s eye. Ashen and shaky, the Betazed stared at her with a horrified expression. Taking a chance, she raised her bound hands to him.

                Evek’s voice dropped to a sultry purr. “These two were easy, Chakotay. Even addicted to psylosinine and barely aware of his actions, my pet Betazed took them both before you ever noticed anything amiss.”

                Jaw set, Suder reached into his pocket.

                “How many more are you willing to lose for your principles, Chakotay? How many more will you sacrifice while you defend a Federation that refused to defend you?”

                With a soft click, the restraints around Kathryn’s wrists fell away.

                “Don’t you have a sister, Chakotay?”

                In one swift, confident motion, Kathryn took the weapon from Suder’s outstretched hand, turned and fired.

-END Part 17-


	18. Chapter 18

** Part 18 **

                The shot caught Evek high on the shoulder, blasting away a chunk of his body armor but leaving flesh intact. With a roar of anger, the Cardassian fired back at Kathryn, who ducked to the side and squeezed off a second shot. It hit Evek square in the chest and burned right through his body armor.

                There was an unearthly scream of disbelief and pain, and then all hell broke loose.

                Two of the three Cardassian engineers turned and fired on Kathryn. Chakotay raised his phaser rifle and picked off one of them with a single shot. Mike Ayala brought down the other with two quick shots. Out of the corner of his eye, Chakotay saw Kathryn duck back behind the console, unharmed.

                The Vorta shouted an order at his Jem’Hadar warriors and bent to take cover behind the warp core. Chakotay ignored him; he was unarmed and virtually no threat beyond his manipulation of the Jem’Hadar. Two of the warriors moved on Chakotay and Ayala’s position and fired. Chakotay dived to the side and rolled behind a console. The red beams from the plasma weapons blew jagged holes in the wall behind him. Ayala stood his ground and fired again and again, Jenny and Dalby flanking him on either side.

                Chakotay peeked under the console to where Gul Evek lay prone on the deck, a smoking hole in the middle of his chest. As much as it galled him, they had to keep Evek alive to expose the True Way’s treachery, but if Kathryn’s weapon was armed with the neurotoxin, they had to move fast.

                Where had she gotten that weapon, anyway?

                With the sound of phaser fire ringing in his ears, Chakotay twisted around far enough to spot the position where Kayma and Kathryn had taken cover. Suder was there, too, but unarmed now, and transfixed by the violence unfolding in front of him. Chakotay gritted his teeth and willed himself to ignore the Betazed. He had a score to settle with the man, but it would have to wait.  Then, while Chakotay watched in disbelief, Kayma popped up from behind the console, grabbed the front of Suder’s jacket and yanked him out of sight.

_What the hell?_

                Then Kathryn jumped up again, her weapon raised – a weapon identical to the Cardassians’. “What are you doing?” Chakotay shouted.

                “Evek’s still conscious,” she ground out.

                Choking and gasping but still conscious, the Gul had rolled to his side and was reaching for his weapon.

                Chakotay surged to his feet, too. “Kathryn, stand down!” he thundered.

                She blinked, startled, but kept her eyes and her weapon focused on Evek.

                “That weapon is loaded with a neurotoxin,” Chakotay continued, moving toward her. “Evek is no good to us dead. Lower your weapon!”

=/\=

                Two shots. It only took two shots to secure the Bridge.

                Panting, Tom stood over the prone body of an unconscious Cardassian.

                “This is not logical.”

                “Not even remotely,” Tom agreed, and lowered his phaser rifle, staring at both the Cardassian he’d taken down and the one Tuvok had dispatched across the Bridge. “It borders on ‘completely stupid,’ if you ask me.”

                “Agreed,” Tuvok said.

                Tom had thought his tricorder must be malfunctioning when Beta team gathered in the Ready Room, poised for a firefight on the Bridge. The device showed only two hostiles on deck, both Cardassians, and only one was armed. Tuvok and Tom had entered the Bridge alone and, with the element of surprise on their side, neutralized them both in about three seconds flat. The rest of the team had ambled onto the Bridge as casually as if they were entering a Holodeck simulation.

                “Why only two?” Tom wondered aloud.

                Tuvok quickly tagged both Cardassians. “They apparently were not expecting resistance.”

                “I guess not.”

                “Can you determine our course heading?”

                “Sure.” Casting a final, puzzled glance at the Cardassians, Tom slid into his old seat at the helm. For just a second, he let himself enjoy the feeling of being back at the only post where he’d ever truly felt at home, then lowered his fingers to the console. Numbers and charts scrolled past almost too rapidly to comprehend, but Tom had seven years of experience at it…and the course heading was familiar to him. “Deep Space Nine,” he said, “and on to Cardassia.”

                “As we suspected.”

                Tom whirled around in his seat, taking in the rest of Beta team standing at the ready, the two unconscious Cardassians, and the otherwise empty Bridge. “This was too easy,” he said. “What are we missing?”

=/\=

                At first glance, it wasn’t a complex device, just a bioculture vault loaded into a gutted photon torpedo. B’Elanna had seen enough similar devices both in the Maquis and in the Delta Quadrant to recognize the configuration. It was the equipment surrounding the vault that caught her attention: A navigational receiver, a vapor pump and a small replicator.

                She sat back on her heels and stared into the open torpedo casing. “It’s a guided distribution system for a self-replicating biological weapon,” she breathed. “Launch it into the lower atmosphere, activate the pump and the replicator, and guide it to your target. Damn.”

                Behind her, Seven tagged the lone Cardassian technician they’d found in weapons control, while the rest of Gamma team stood by. “Is it functional?” Seven asked.

                “Fully,” B’Elanna replied. She checked the receiver’s readout. “The nav system is coded to _Voyager’_ s photon torpedo controls, and the replicator is online.” Carefully, she turned the small bioculture vault over. “The vault’s still sealed, though. The toxin’s contained for now.” She rose and closed the torpedo casing.

                Seven stood nearby. “Is there a target coded?”

                B’Elanna shook her head. “Not yet. The tech was probably about to lock it in when we arrived.” She crossed her arms. “One tech,” she mused. “Why only one tech?”

=/\=

                Harry lowered his hand phaser, panting in the sudden silence of the shuttlebay. There were four Cardassians and two Jem’Hadar sprawled on the deck around them. “Admiral?” he asked.

                “Here.” Owen Paris leaned over and rested his hands on his knees, breathing hard. “I’m too old for this shit,” he muttered.

                Harry smiled. Just for a second, the Admiral had sounded exactly like Tom. “I’ll tag these hostiles for you, sir,” he offered.

                Owen waved him off. “I have it. You get back to the _Flyer_ and see if you can figure out what the hell is going on.”

                “Yes, sir,” Harry acknowledged. “Doc?”

                _“Here,_ ” the hologram answered _. “I have tagged two Cardassians, a Jem’Hadar and a Vorta for your convenience, Lieutenant Kim.”_

                “Well done, Doc.” Harry made his way up the ramp and into the _Flyer_. “But while that cloak is still active, I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do with them. The transporter can’t get a solid lock on anything.” At the craft’s Ops display, Harry tried to make sense of the _Flyer’s_ muddled sensor readings. He toggled through several displays, looking for anything that made sense.

                Owen joined him a moment later. “I wonder if the other teams fared as well as we did.”

                Harry tapped his fingers on the console, watching the screens flicker past. “These sensors are still a mess.”

                “Can you patch into _Voyager’s_ array?”

                “Not without the code from Admiral Janeway.”

                The Doc’s voice crackled through the _Flyer’s_ comm system. _“Admiral? Lieutenant?”_

                Owen raised his head. “Paris here, Doc. Go ahead.”

                _“Sir, the Vorta’s comm just activated.”_ Harry and Owen exchanged a glance. _“Does the word ‘Kraxon’ mean anything to you?”_

=/\=

                “Stand down, Kathryn!”

                There was a flash of blue light, and Kayma heard a body hit the deck behind her. She covered her ears and looked up at Kathryn. If the Admiral lowered her weapon she’d be left unarmed and unable to protect herself or her charges. Kayma didn’t know her well yet, but she suspected the Admiral wasn’t the type to willingly leave herself so exposed now that the fighting had begun.

                “You have to trust me, Kathryn,” Chakotay said in a low voice.

                Kathryn blinked, nodded, and lowered her weapon.

                “Jarvin, arm the Admiral.”

                “Aye, Commander.”

                The sandy-haired man who had been making his way over to their position started moving again. The woman with him fired at someone Kayma couldn’t see. “You’re covered, Jarvin,” she shouted. “Go.”

                Kathryn crouched down behind the console. She wrapped her hand around Kayma’s upper arm. “You’re all right,” Kathryn whispered. “This will all be over soon, I promise.” Kayma nodded.

                The sandy-haired man – Jarvin, Chakotay had called him – bent low to take Suder’s weapon from the Admiral and hand over his phaser rifle. The Admiral hesitated. “What about you?”

                Jarvin pulled a hand phaser from his pocket. “I’ll be all right, Admiral.”

                “Report,” the Admiral ordered. “How is your team armed?”

                “Phaser rifles and hand phasers, Admiral. Chakotay and Mike are both carrying plasma charges. The hostiles are carrying plasma weapons loaded with neurotoxins.” Jarvin nodded toward the weapon in his hands. “Like Suder’s.”

                Kayma sucked in a sharp breath and felt the sting of tears. Suder’s was the weapon that had injured Harry.

                The Admiral blew out a slow breath. “The other teams are similarly equipped?”

                Confused by the question, Jarvin’s eyebrows drew together. “Yes, Admiral.”

                She nodded once. “Tactical, please.”

                Jarvin shook off his bafflement and peeked over the top of the console, then crouched again. “Evek is down. Jenny’s moving in with a medikit. Two of the other Cardies are down, and Ken has engaged the other Cardassian. The Jem’Hadar are still moving on Ayala and Chakotay.”

                The Admiral’s jaw set. “I need to take out the Vorta. Where is he?”

                Jarvin craned his neck. I think he’s still behind the warp core. He’s unarmed,” Jarvin said. “Megan and I will cover you.”

                “Belay that,” the Admiral ordered, and Kayma noticed one of the two women who were part of Chakotay’s team had reached their position as well. “Megan, stay with Kayma and Suder.”

                “Yes, Admiral,” the woman answered. Jarvin and the Admiral nodded to each other, rose as one, rounded the console and moved out of sight.

                More chaos – but even more intense this time. Beside her, Suder whimpered and covered his ears at the sound of the nonstop phaser fire. Kayma shifted closer to him, hoping that her presence would keep him calm.

                Another body fell, and another…and then all was silent.

                “Team, stand down,” Chakotay shouted. There was a chorus of “Aye, sirs,” and for the first time in hours, Kayma relaxed.                               

                Until a large, brown hand reached around the console and jerked Suder to his feet.

                Kayma gasped at the expression on Chakotay’s face, furious and fierce, as he backed Suder into the wall and jammed a hand phaser into the quivering man’s gut. “No, Chakotay!” she shouted.

                “He hurt you,” Chakotay growled. “You and Kathryn both.”

                “But he won’t again,” she answered, moving toward them both. She hadn’t seen that look on Chakotay’s face since the day he came to tell Tohopa and Ixche he was leaving Starfleet, and it made her heart ache to see it now. “He’s sick,” she continued. “He needs help.”

                Suder struggled in Chakotay’s grasp. Chakotay shoved him against the wall again. The man’s head thudded against the metal and he groaned.

                “Stand down, Commander.” Kathryn’s voice, clear and strong, rang out in the tense silence. “Suder was under the influence of the Vorta when he abducted us and shot Harry.”

                “Not an excuse,” Chakotay snarled.

                Kathryn raised her chin. “Isn’t it?” she asked quietly. “Remember the Vori?”

                Chakotay gasped. Kayma wondered what “Vori” meant. Clearly the word had an impact on Chakotay, whose expression had gone from fierce and furious to remorseful in the space of a heartbeat.

                “He’s no threat to you, and no threat to us,” the Admiral whispered. “Lower your weapon, Chakotay.”

                Slowly, reluctantly, Chakotay stepped away from Suder.

                Kayma darted out from under the console and picked up Kathryn’s discarded wrist cuffs. “Turn him around,” she said. “He’ll stand trial with Evek and then get the help he needs.”

                As if in a daze, Chakotay turned Suder so that Kayma could bind his hands behind him. One of Chakotay’s men led him away, but Kayma barely registered the activity; her gaze was locked on Chakotay, who had dropped his phaser and was reaching for her, his eyes very bright and full. “ _Chitsa_ ,” he said, and Kayma felt  the sob she’d kept at bay all night rising in her throat. “It’s over now, _chitsa_.”

                Then she was in his arms, pressed close to his broad chest, wrapped in his strong and safe embrace. She held on tight as if she were a little girl again, welcoming her beloved cousin home. “We knew you’d come,” she whispered.

                His arms tightened around her. “I should have been here sooner.”

                “But you’re here now,” she said, burrowing even deeper into his solid warmth.

                “No, I should have gone looking for you as soon as I got home and you and Harry weren’t there.”

                Kayma squeezed her eyes shut tight. “I’m so sorry about Harry,” she whispered.

                To her surprise, Chakotay laughed. “Harry’s fine,” he said.

                With a gasp, Kayma drew away and looked up into his tear-streaked face. “What?”

                Chakotay smoothed a lock of hair away from her face. “He’s fine. Would you like to talk to him?”

                Kayma pressed her fingertips to her lips, astonished, and nodded. Chakotay touched the comm in his ear. “Delta team lead? Someone here would like to speak to you.” He removed the unit and handed it to her. “Just speak normally,” he said. “The mic will pick up your voice.”

                She fitted the little device in her ear. “Harry?” she asked.

                There was a pause, and then: “ _Kayma? Is that you?”_

                Kayma laughed out loud. “You’re okay!” she said, a wave of relief washing over her at his words.

                Harry laughed, too. “ _Tired and sore, but okay. How about you?”_

                “Relieved,” she said, and then smirked. “So this is what you do for a living, huh?”

                “ _Not every day,”_ he answered with a soft chuckle. _“But yes, this is it. Is the Admiral all right?”_

                Kayma glanced up to find the Admiral and Chakotay standing very close together, face-to-face. He was bent practically double to look into her eyes, and she had one hand hooked into the front of his gear vest. “She’s fine,” Kayma said with a smile. “We’re all fine.”

                _“No injuries?”_

                Kayma turned on the spot, taking in the state of Chakotay’s team as they checked their weapons. “We all have a few scrapes and bruises, but nothing serious.”

                Harry let out a relieved breath. _“Good. I –“_ He held a quick and technical conversation with someone Kayma couldn’t hear, and then continued. “ _I hate to ask this, but can you give the comm back to Chakotay now? We’re not quite out of the woods yet.”_

                “I’ll see you soon?”

                Harry hesitated again, and Kayma was certain there was something he wasn’t telling her. Maybe _a lot_ he wasn’t telling her. _“Sure,”_ he said. _“The Admiral and Commander won’t take any more action until you’re safe.”_

                “All right,” she said uncertainly, moving toward Chakotay and the Admiral. “Here’s Chakotay again.” She touched her cousin on the sleeve and handed him the comm, which he fitted into his ear.

                “Stand by, Harry,” he said, and turned his full attention to her again. “I’m sending you back to the _Flyer_ ,” he said, and indicated for two of his team to step forward. “Stay with Jarvin and Megan. We shouldn’t have any more trouble for a few minutes, and if we do, they’ll keep you safe.” That sounded ominous to Kayma, but she nodded quickly.

                “I’ll stay with them,” she promised.

                “Good.” The tall, dark-haired man and the barrel-chested man stepped forward. One of them pulled a silvery cloth out of his pocket and spread it on the floor. Together, the two of them rolled Evek onto the cloth and hoisted it by the corners. The last member of the team, the woman who looked so much like Megan, held her phaser rifle at the ready. “Fall back to the _Flyer_ ,” Chakotay ordered, “and check in when you get there.”

                The tall, dark-haired man nodded once. “Aye, Commander. We’ll see you there.”

                Kayma darted forward to kiss Chakotay’s cheek, squared her shoulders, and followed the men with the unconscious Cardassian and Megan out of Engineering, the rest of Chakotay’s team falling in behind her.

=/\=

                “Are you all right?”

                Kathryn rubbed her forehead. “Tired and hungry, but otherwise unharmed.”

                Chakotay leaned down and peered into her eyes. “Are you sure?” He swallowed hard. “We found blood in your apartment and in your car.”

                She waved him off. “A bloody nose, nothing more. I’m fine.”

                He narrowed his eyes at her, but refrained from comment and retrieved the pack Megan Delaney had left behind. “We brought water and ration bars.” He handed her a field-issue flatpack of water and began to unwrap a ration bar for her. “Here.”

                She leaned against the console, took a long swig of the water and downed half the bar in two bites. Chakotay smiled. “Easy, there,” he said.

                “Please. I haven’t eaten since dinner at your house,” she muttered around a mouthful of dry, chalky Starfleet field rations. “And I don’t want to have to blame anything that happens now on decision fatigue.”

                With a chuckle, Chakotay took the empty flatpack from her and stowed it in the pack. “Good thinking.”

                Kathryn finished the ration bar and stood up straight. “Report, Commander.”

                Chakotay shrugged. “We’re cloaked and cruising at warp 6 toward an unknown destination.” He reached into his pocket and handed her a comm set. “But you may as well get the rest directly from the teams. Tuvok is Beta team lead, on the Bridge. B’Elanna and Seven are Gamma. We think there could be a biological weapon aboard.”

                “The True Way?”

                Chakotay nodded. “Owen thinks so. He’s kicking himself for dismissing a source.”

                Pushing down a wave of anger at the Admirals’ shortsightedness, Kathryn nodded. “As he should be. Alynna Nechayev, too.”

                “Owen’s heading up Delta team in the shuttle bay with Harry and the _Flyer_.”

                Kathryn raised her eyebrows at him. “You all came in the _Flyer_?”

                “It was…quite the squeeze.”

                “I’m sure it was.”

                Chakotay rubbed his chin. “Baytart is Epsilon leader. He’s readying the Brig for prisoners, but we can’t get them there while the cloak is active.”

                “Transporters are down?”

                “And sensors are compromised. Also…Did you see the Hideki fighters before they cloaked?”

                Kathryn nodded again. “Do you think there could be more?”

                “I’d be surprised if there weren’t.”

                Kathryn put her hands on her hips. “So the transporters down, the sensors compromised, and there’s an unknown number of hostile ships cruising in our wake. Seems like old times, doesn’t it?”

                “It’s actually kind of comforting.”

                Kathryn punched his arm and fitted the comm to her ear but didn’t activate it quite yet. “Beta, Gamma, Delta and Epsilon,” she mused. “I take it you’re Alpha?”

                The look he gave her could have burned through the outer hull. “Yes, ma’am,” he breathed. “Every inch.”

                Not to be outdone, she cocked a saucy eyebrow at him and gave him a head-to-toe onceover which, she was gratified to see, made him blush. “Oh, I certainly hope so.” She activated the comm. “Team leads, this is Admiral Janeway. Report.”

                She winced at the chatter that followed, which consisted of expressions of gratitude at her safety and no useful information whatsoever. “One at a time, please,” she said. “Beta team lead, report.”

                Tuvok’s quiet voice filled her ear. _“The Bridge is secure. We encountered only two hostiles, who can be transported to the brig at Lieutenant Kim’s convenience._ ”

                “Acknowledged. Do we know where the ship is headed?”

                Tom’s voice this time. _“Looks like Cardassia to me, Admiral. I assume they want to use the ship as evidence that the Federation didn’t negotiate in good faith.”_

                _“No, it’s a false flag,”_ B’Elanna cut in. _“Gamma team here, Admiral. We found the bioweapon. It’s loaded into a photon torpedo casing, with a nav system, a distribution mechanism and a replicator.”_

                There was a brief silence as all the teams digested this information. Kathryn and Chakotay exchanged a long, quiet glance. “Acknowledged, B’Elanna. Go on.”

                _“That’s it. There was one tech, but he’s tagged and ready for transport.”_

                _“Seven of Nine reporting, Admiral._ ”

                Kathryn raised an eyebrow at Chakotay, who gave her a tight smile  and a sheepish shrug in return. “Acknowledged. Go ahead, Seven.”

                _“Have you located the cloaking device?”_

                Kathryn turned and gazed at the mass of unfamiliar tech hard-wired into the backup warp control console. “It’s here in Engineering.”

                _“Do you need assistance disengaging it?”_

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Seven,” Kathryn replied. “Delta team, report.”

                _“The shuttle bay is secure, with no casualties,_ ” Owen said. _“I was unable to get a second message to the_ Sagan _before we went to warp.”_

Chakotay closed his eyes. “So they have no idea where we’re going, or that we’re cloaked.”

                _“No, I’m afraid not. Lieutenant Kim?”_

                Harry’s voice entered the conversation. _“Sensors and transporters are still down. As soon as the cloak is deactivated, I can start bringing you back to the_ Flyer _. Doc? Would you mind sharing your news?”_

                _“Of course, Lieutenant. Approximately two minutes ago, someone tried to raise the Vorta here on his comm.”_

                Alarmed, Kathryn waved Chakotay to the unconscious Vorta near the warp core. “Go on, Doctor.”

                _“When he couldn’t reply, whoever it was stopped calling.”_

                Kathryn frowned, watching Chakotay retrieve their Vorta’s comm. “Anything?” she asked.

                He started to shake his head when the device came to life in his palm. _“Gul Dobok to Larin. The Kraxon is in position. Please acknowledge.”_

                “Owen, do you know--”

                “That’s a Cardassian ship,” Chakotay gasped, his eyes wide, his pained gaze fastened on her face. “The _Kraxon_. It’s a _Galor­­_ -class destroyer. Crew complement of two-fifty, maybe three hundred.”

                There was a charged silence over the tactical comm system. Kathryn cleared her throat. “Owen?”

                The older man sighed. _“Acknowledged, Katie. I hoped I just remembered it wrong, but if Chakotay knows the name, too…”_

                She stared at Chakotay. “You’re sure?”

                He nodded grimly and slipped the Vorta’s comm into his pocket.

                So that’s why retaking the ship was so easy. Three hundred reinforcements were on their way, aboard a _Galor_ -class ship that rivaled the _Enterprise_ for size.

                “All teams,” Kathryn said slowly, “stand by for orders.”

                She removed the tactical comm from her ear, folded her hands around it and leaned back against the console. Slowly, so slowly, Chakotay made his way back to her and leaned against the same console, close enough that his arm brushed her shoulder, his own comm cradled in his hands.

                For a brief, stolen moment, Kathryn imagined the way her ship had looked on the approach in the cargo vessel. Every patched fracture and old wound, every scar earned in combat, every blemish represented a battle fought and won, and sometimes, a life lost. In seven years she’d had plenty of occasions to regard her ship this way, from the outside looking in, as she returned from negotiations and missions and crises too numerous to recall. _Voyager,_ her sleek little ship, soon to be infested by Cardassians and Jem’Hadar who would use it for a purpose she could not fathom, or abide.

                And then the memories assaulted her. Taking command. Touring every deck. Choosing her crew. Receiving her orders. Saying good-bye to Mark. Every moment, rendered with crystalline clarity in her mind’s eye.

                Behind those memories, others, just as clear. Standing toe-to-toe with Chakotay for the first time, feeling the sudden, unexpected heat of him so close to her. Playing pool in Sandrine’s with Harry. Hiding from the Hirogen. Returning to her quarters, so comforting, after being freed from the Borg. Presiding over Tom and B’Elanna’s wedding and Joe Carey’s funeral. So many memories, many bad, more good, all made in these spaces she knew so well, inside these protective walls that had kept them alive for so long.

                But _Voyager_ , out of commission for months, without its usual complement of weapons, crew or shuttlecraft, was no match for a _Galor-_ class Cardassian warship. She couldn’t fight off a ship of that size, but she couldn’t be allowed to fall into Cardassian hands.

                She had given all she had to give. It was time to rest.

                Kathryn turned, finally, and looked up at Chakotay.

                Eyes closed, face twisted slightly away from her, he was so still and quiet she would have thought him asleep on his feet, but for the twitch at the back of his jaw.

                “Chakotay?”

                “I have to know, Kathryn,” he whispered, eyes still closed. “Before we do this, I have to know.” He eyes opened, and she caught her breath at the intensity in his gaze, and the raw, unguarded passion. “Do you intend to walk away from this? Because if you mean to stay with her until the end, I won’t allow it. I’ll drag you kicking and screaming if I have to, but I will not let you go down with the ship.”

                She slipped her hand into his. “Chakotay…”

                He shook his head and grasped her hand so hard she winced. “No, Kathryn. I won’t let you do it. And I don’t want you to regret that, or resent me for it.”

                Moved almost beyond words, Kathryn pushed away from the console and turned to face him fully, one hand still gripped in his. “I couldn’t resent you for saving me from myself again, Chakotay.” She smiled and raised her free hand to press against his cheek. “And as for regret… Never. I have far too much to live for.”

                He held her gaze for a long, charged moment, then closed his eyes again and pressed his lips to her palm – the tiniest of kisses, ephemeral and fleeting, but electric. Kathryn gasped at the heat of it – before he nodded once and almost smiled. “Cascade failure?”

                The effort to pull herself back together after that kiss was almost too much to muster on little food and less sleep. “I already started the sequence,” she answered.

                “I assumed you had.”

                “I’ll need to deactivate the cloak and power down the drive before you reinitialize the sequence. Then we’ll have about three minutes to get everybody back into the _Flyer_.”

                “And before those Hideki fighters and the _Kraxon_ figure out what’s going on and circle back.” Chakotay nodded to the unconscious Cardassians and Jem’Hadar warriors littering the deck. “What about them?”

                “We’ll put as many of them as we can in escape pods and launch them. The _Flyer_ should be able to tractor them in after launch.”

                “How long will it take the _Sagan_ to get here after we raise them?

                Kathryn rubbed her forehead. “Five minutes, maybe six. We might have to evade the _Kraxon_ in the _Flyer_ until then.”

                “That’s cutting it close.” With a sigh, Chakotay pushed his body away from the console. “This is it, then.”

                Kathrn nodded. “This is it. I think I always knew it would come to this, and we’d ask her to make the ultimate sacrifice someday.”

                He reached out and touched her cheek. “I’m just glad it happened here and not out there. Out there it would have meant almost certain death. But here, it means life.” He grinned. “Assuming we can outrun _Kraxon_ and the Hideki fighters, and assuming _Sagan_ gets here in a hurry.”

                “I don’t want much, do I?” She placed a hand over his heart. “So you’re with me?”

                “After all these years, Kathryn, I’m surprised you’re still bothering to ask.”

                “It’s just nice to hear it now and then.” With a final pat on his chest, she withdrew her hand. “Let’s do it.”

                He fitted the tactical comm back into his ear. “All hands, acknowledge.”

                They each checked in – more than twenty of her former crew who had come to her rescue and were now awaiting her orders. Kathryn slipped her hand into Chakotay’s again, and squared her shoulders. “We’ve been operating under a false assumption,” she said. “That this ship is worth saving.”

=/\=

                One by one, they received her orders in silence.

                One by one, they obeyed.

                In the Ready Room, someone placed a plasma charge with infinite care and patience. _This is where I learned to bend_ , he thought, and withdrew.

                In Weapons Control, someone rigged the last of the photon torpedoes with a timed delay. _This is where I learned the difference between_ collective _and_ family.

                In a lonely corridor, someone wrenched a panel free to expose a bank of bioneural gelpacks. _This is where I learned to accept myself_ , she thought, and rammed a hypo home.

                On the Bridge, someone set each console to power up to critical and self-destruct at thirty-second intervals. _This is where I learned to be a man_ , he thought, and activated the timer sequence.

                Outside the shuttlebay, someone set his phaser to overload and tossed it down the corridor. _This is where I learned to serve others, but live for myself_ , he thought, gave himself a curt nod of satisfaction, and retreated.

                In the shuttlebay, someone went over the launch sequence while he waited for the cloak to deactivate. _This is where I learned to be a friend._

                One by one, they moved to do their Captain’s bidding one last time.

                In Engineering, someone waited for the telltale hum of the cloak to power down. He watched, transfixed, while Kathryn worked. _This is where I learned to trust again_ , he thought. When she looked up from her work and nodded, he smiled in reply. _And where I finally learned to love._

                _This is where I learned to be_ alone, she thought, then caught his gaze and felt tears fill her eyes. _And then realized that I wasn’t._

                One by one, each in their own unique way, they said goodbye.

                And then they ran like hell.

=/\=

                They’d almost reached the shuttlebay when the low rumble of the first explosion shook the deck beneath Chakotay’s feet.

                Harry had managed to beam in most of the teams in the first few seconds after Kathryn deactivated the cloak. He’d commed a standby for transport, but Kathryn had insisted on sending the bioweapon and the cloaking device first. “Evidence,” she’d said between panting breaths. “There won’t be enough of _Voyager_ left to prove anything. Take the devices. We’ll make it in time.”

                The warp drive had powered down just moments after the cloaking device. _Voyager_ was at full stop, dead in space. They had seconds now, not minutes.

                The next explosion was close, almost knocking Chakotay to his knees. As he rounded the last curve and headed into the shuttlebay, he caught sight of Tuvok standing on the ramp up to the _Flyer_ , beckoning them to hurry. Chakotay risked a glance to the side to make sure Kathryn was keeping up.

                She wasn’t there.

                He skidded to a halt and whirled around. She had stopped just a few meters into the bay and was turning back the way they’d come, one hand raised to cover her trembling lips.

                “Kathryn!” he called, taking a hasty step toward her, fear for her slamming into him like a tidal wave.

                She turned to stare at him, tears on her cheeks.

                “Kathryn, we have to go!” he shouted, and broke into a run. “Tuvok!”

                He never saw the lone Jem’Hadar warrior shake off his stupor and rise from the deck, never saw the weapon, never saw the plasma beam arcing toward his heart. He saw only Kathryn’s eyes, filled with horror as she shook off her hesitation and ran toward him, and then a spatter of his own blood flying outward in a shower of crimson drops.

                He knew nothing but jagged edges of pain, then, radiating in waves from his left shoulder, down along his limbs, up into his head. He dropped his weapon and clawed at his clothing, desperate to be rid of the knives that were surely carving him to pieces.

                Two pairs of hands caught him before he hit the deck. Tuvok, calling for the Doc, clasped him from behind while Kathryn clutched at his tattered shirt. “You stay with me,” she shouted, shaking him a little. “Do you hear me? You stay with me, Chakotay.”

                He tried to respond, but no words came forth, only a long animal howl of agony. More hands joined Tuvok’s. Together they dragged him into the _Flyer_ , every jolting step sending new blades of torment throughout his body. He screamed for release until the hands finally dropped him into a chair and he closed his eyes.

                “No! You will not leave me,” Kathryn ordered, her voice echoing inside the cramped craft. She touched his face, smoothing the damp hair from his forehead. “Not now,” she whispered in his ear, over and over again. “Not now, not now.”

                He heard the Doc’s voice, and Kayma’s, but he couldn’t make out the words. Kathryn’s hold on him gentled, then, and she began to murmur more softly to him, reassurances of safety and promises of comfort. Something cold hissed into his neck, something that dulled the daggers of pain, and he collapsed into her soothing touch.

=/\=

                 His face went slack under her fingertips. Alarmed by Chakotay’s sudden stillness—and the gaping, smoking wound that had taken a chunk out of his left shoulder—Kathryn glanced up at the Doc. “What was that?”

                The Doc shook his head. “Just something to stop the plasma burn and slow the spread of the neurotoxin.” The Doc smiled grimly. “And enough painkillers to make him comfortable until we get to Starfleet Medical.” The Doc lowered Chakotay’s chair into a reclined position and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “He’ll be fine. Admiral Paris hailed the _Sagan_. She’s on her way. Everyone is accounted for and the shuttle is pressurizing. Please go see to our escape while I take care of the Commander, Admiral.”

                “Our escape,” she echoed vaguely, and glanced into the cockpit, where Tom was rushing through the _Flyer’s_ pre-flight sequence. B’Elanna was barking adjustments to him from the engineering station, Tuvok was seated at the weapons console and Harry was looking at her expectantly from Ops. She raised her chin. “Our escape,” she repeated, stroked Chakotay’s cheek one last time, took a deep breath and rose.

                Around them, _Voyager_ shuddered and groaned. She slid into the co-pilot’s seat beside her longtime navigator. “How much time have we got?” she asked.

                “About twenty seconds until the plasma charges start to go,” B’Elanna answered. “Maybe thirty. But no more.” She swore under her breath. “I can’t get control of the bay doors.”

                “Fortunately, there’s no reason to keep them intact anymore.” Kathryn swiveled in her seat. “Tuvok?”

                The Vulcan didn’t even look up. “Firing.”

                A bright beam burst from the Flyer II’s weapons array and left behind a jagged hole in the bay doors. “Mister Paris,” Kathryn ordered. “Take us out.”

                “Yes, ma’am,” he said with relish. “Sometimes, I guess you really do just have to punch your way through. Everybody hang on.”

                Under Tom’s expert hands, the _Flyer_ rose and swooped out of the bay, through the ruined bay doors, and out into open space.

                “B’Elanna, what’s the status of our warp drive?”

                The Engineer tapped her console. “I need a few more seconds to power up,” she answered. “This one’s always been a little balky.”

                Kathryn started to reply, but Harry spoke up first. “I’m detecting a warp field,” He announced. “More than one, actually.”

                “The _Kraxon_?” Kathryn asked.

                “And the Hidekis. Uncloaked and heading our way.”

                Kathryn peered out the forward viewport. “Any sign of the _Sagan_?”

                Harry hesitated. “I’ve got two Starfleet warp signatures on long-range sensors, too. Wait…three. _Sagan, T’Pask_ and…” Hary looked up with a grin. “ _Enterprise_. They’ll be here about sixty seconds after the _Kraxon_ , Admiral.”

                Kathryn nodded. It was finally over. “Get behind the _Voyager_ , Tom” she ordered. “Put the explosion between us and the _Kraxon_. It’ll buy us just enough time.”

                “Aye, Admiral,” Tom answered, and the little ship ducked and dived at sublight, moving into position…bringing the wreckage of the _Voyager_ into full view.

                No one spoke. No one _breathed._

                Wherever they were sitting or standing, every member of the team was transfixed by the sight unfolding in front of them.

                Kathryn placed a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Full stop,” she said softly.

                He turned to gape at her in disbelief, but she inclined her head toward the hold behind them, where every solemn face, every glistening pair of eyes, was turned to the ship they were leaving behind.

                Tom followed her gaze and drew in a sharp breath. “Full stop,” he acknowledged. “Aye.”

                “Thank you.” Kathryn rose and walked toward the back of the _Flyer_ , patting a shoulder here, touching a hand there, until she stood in the middle of them. They made a space for her at the viewport and then closed in around her again, her crew, always at her back, with her even now as they stood together and watched _Voyager_ slowly die.

                Blue flares began to erupt all over the ship, tiny pinpoints of light that shone though each portal, glowing brighter and brighter. “The gelpacks?” Kathryn asked.

                “The Doc suggested a growth hormone,” B’Elanna replied. The blue glow increased until the entire ship seemed to be bathed in bursts of blue, inside and out. “Look at them go. It’s working perfectly.”

                “First time for everything,” someone muttered, and everyone chuckled.

                One by one, transparent aluminum portals blew out of their housings. A series of ten explosions ringed its way along the upper hull, each one a ghostly green ignition followed by a red fireball that formed and burst and dissipated in silence.

                “Plasma charges,” Seven said quietly. “From the Bridge?”

                Sam Wildman nodded. “All ten.”

                Near many open portals, flames erupted and flared and died, flames of every color imaginable. “What’s happening?” someone asked.

                “Outgassing,” Kathryn answered. “The gases trapped inside the rooms and materials are venting out into space. The high heat from the plasma charges will ignite anything that’s flammable. The molecular makeup of the gas determines the flame color.”

                “Can’t see it,” a ragged voice said. “Need to see it.”

                Kathryn started and moved to Chakotay’s side. Several pairs of hands – she didn’t stop to see whose – helped her raise him gently into a sitting position and then urged her onto the chair behind him. Carefully, mindful of his injury, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled his head down onto her shoulder. “Better?”

                He nodded once and stilled, eyes fixed on the conflagration.

                A gaudy green and orange flame burst from the lower hull in a gigantic fireball that made them all flinch. “Bet that was the last of Neelix’s leola root stash,” Tom said.

                Tuvok spoke up. “The stench must be unimaginable.” A ripple of amusement worked its way around the group. Kathryn recognized the gallows humor and smiled in spite of herself.

                More flames formed, all bright green and purple this time, trailing and flowing along the nacelles. Mike Ayala placed his hand flat on the viewport. “Looks like fish,” he said. “Swimming in a clear river.”

                “Curtains in a breeze,” one of the Delaneys whispered.

                “Northern Lights,” Philicia offered.

                Red and blue billows this time, puffing along the lower hull. “Fourth of July fireworks,” Harry said with a smile.

                “It’s incredible,” Sam Wildman sighed, wiping tears from her cheeks.

                “It’s beautiful,” Chakotay whispered. “Like the fire flowers on Seleph.” He turned his face to hers. “Remember, Kathryn?”

                She pressed her cheek to his. “I remember.”

                In the stillness and silence, while their crew leaned on each other once again for comfort and consolation, their ship, their beautiful, battered ship, blew itself apart.

                “The warp core will go next,” B’Elanna said softly. “Twenty seconds.”

                “Shields?” Kathryn asked.

                “Holding,” Harry answered, “but it wouldn’t hurt to get some distance. _Kraxon_ is almost here. _Sagan, T’Pask_ and _Enterprise_ are right behind.”

                In her arms, Chakotay shuddered. Before she could summon him, the Doc was at their side, hypo in hand. “I’d like to sedate you now, Commander,” he said, more gently than Kathryn had thought possible.

                Chakotay flinched away from him. “No.”

                Kathryn held him tighter. “It’s all right now. It’s all over.” When she felt him relax against her again, she made way for the Doc. “Rest now,” she said. She caught Tom’s eye and nodded once. The pilot returned the gesture with a smile and spun to his station.

                “Kathryn?” Chakotay’s voice, soft and sleepy, made her smile.

                She pressed a soothing kiss to his neck in the place the hypo had touched, and another to the blue swirl at his temple. “We’re going home.”

-END Part 18-


	19. Chapter 19

** Part 19 **

                His left hand was numb.

                It was often numb now, an aftereffect of the neurotoxin. It started with a tingling sensation in his fingertips, then pins and needles that crawled up his arm like a thousand stinging ants, followed by numbness that lasted for up to an hour. According to the Doc, he’d been hit with a highly refined form of the psylosinine and the lingering symptoms should ease soon. But five days had passed since “The _Voyager_ Incident,” as it was being called in the press, and the numbness still wasn’t getting any better. It hadn’t hindered his daily life yet, fortunately.

                At least not much. He tried to shake the sensation back into his fingertips, but when he couldn’t hold the board still anymore and the teeth of the saw began to catch in the grain, Chakotay decided it was time to rest for a while. The day was unusually hot and humid even for September in Big Sur, and he was tired anyway. So he set the handsaw aside and retrieved his lemonade from the deck where he’d left it with his sweat-soaked shirt.

                He slapped his deadened hand against his thigh and eyed the abandoned saw. The redwood planks weren’t going to cut themselves, and if he wanted to get the addition to the deck finished, he needed to work faster. An hour of numbness three or four times a day certainly wasn’t helping his pace, and soon he would be back at the Academy for his usual roster of classes. The full week of recovery was a welcome break, but finishing the deck before the autumn rains came was looking less and less likely.

                Maybe he should invest in power tools.

                He shrugged the thought away immediately. There was something satisfying about doing the work by hand, cutting and smoothing and dropping the boards into place one by one, instead of just replicating prefabricated parts and assembling them. In town, he’d even found a source for reclaimed redwood lumber, saving the trouble of cutting down one of the heirloom trees that shaded his cottage. He had to trim the planks to size and plane the roughness out of them, but it was pleasing to watch the work of his own hands come together, and it gave him something to do while he waited to go back to teaching.

                Hand tools and reclaimed wood. Kolopak would have been proud – and he would have enjoyed a long belly laugh at his contrary son, a Starfleet officer who insisted on working with saw and plane, hammer and nails.

                Chakotay drained the glass of lemonade and mopped the sweat from his face with his discarded shirt. The setting sun was almost too warm on his body, and pricked at the new skin on his left shoulder. If he wasn’t careful, he’d wind up with a very strange tan—brown everywhere with a shocking patch of pink where the plasma beam had burned away so much flesh. The new skin had been grown from his own cells so it would toughen and darken in time. For now, though, it was tender, baby-soft and fair compared to the rest of him, and felt tight and hot after long exposure to the sun.

                He pondered going back inside the cool, shady house…but watching Kayma pace and putter would just make him more tired. He smiled to himself. She was waiting, not very patiently, for Harry and Tom and B’Elanna to arrive. The foursome had quite a weekend planned: A gourmet dinner tonight in Santa Barbara, then two nights in a luxury beachfront resort. Kayma’s esteem for Harry had grown exponentially since The _Voyager_ Incident, and no wonder. She was looking forward to getting to know him even better, she said.

                Chakotay had told her to spare him the details. She’d only winked in response. Her  bag—her very _small_ bag—had been packed and ready by the front door since breakfast.

                Chakotay was pouring himself a second glass of lemonade from the thermal carafe when he heard a groundcar pull up beside the house. Quick, light footsteps through the house, then, followed by the creak of the front door, and four car doors.

                Four?

                As he turned back into the house, Kayma’s gleeful voice reached him even from the front yard. “Hey, Chakotay! Harry, Tom and B’Elanna are here, and they brought something extra for _you_!”

                Puzzled, Chakotay threw his shirt over his shoulder and grabbed the glass in his good hand before he ducked into the house. Tom and B’Elanna were there just inside the front door, and Harry had his arm around Kayma. All four were grinning at him expectantly. He looked from one to the other for a clue, eyebrows raised, until Tom chuckled. “It’s bigger than a breadbox, but smaller than a Type I shuttlecraft…”

                “Oh, stop teasing the poor man.” Chakotay nearly dropped his glass at the sound of the throaty voice. “He’s been through enough this week.”

                Kathryn pushed her way between Tom and Harry and stepped fully into the room. She was dressed for the heat in crisp, blue linen, with her hair drawn up in a braid and a mischievous look in her eye. “Hi,” she said, eyeing him up and down with a quirked eyebrow. “Please don’t get dressed on our account.”

                With a start, he hooked a thumb toward the deck. “I was just working,” he explained, and shouldered into the damp, smelly shirt. “You actually caught me by surprise, and…” He frowned at her in the lengthening shadows. “What are you doing here, Kathryn?”

                She shrugged and her smile, almost as nervous as it was playful, he now noticed, faltered a fraction. “Kayma called yesterday and told me she was going away for the weekend. She thought you might like some company.”

                Chakotay’s gaze flicked to Kayma, who narrowed her eyes at him and nodded toward Kathryn.  Her meaning was plain: _Stop being an idiot._

                He looked back at Kathryn and saw, finally, the Starfleet-issue duffle dangling at her side. They’d spoken only three times since the incident: Once as he was being wheeled out of surgery by the Doc, once on the afternoon he was finally released from Starfleet Medical, and most recently on the morning of the final incident briefings. They’d made tentative promises to get together soon, but no firm plans. He’d assumed that when her schedule had cleared and the inquiry over the destruction of _Voyager_ was completed, she would summon him for the talk she’d offered a week ago. He figured they would have to be mindful of the constant scrutiny she was always under. They could risk dinner in San Francisco. Maybe a concert or two. Brunch in Indiana. Nothing too pressurized or suggestive. They’d go slowly. Her position demanded it.

                And yet, here she was, standing in his living room with an overnight bag in her hand, the straps clutched so tightly in her fist that her knuckles had gone white.

                As white as her face, falling into lines of confusion.

                As white as her pale, freckled shoulders in that dress.

                That silky-soft, shimmering dress, shining in the light of the full moon.

                The too-bright moon.

                Chakotay caught her blue eyes and held them. “I’d love some company,” he murmured, for her ears alone.

                The blush began at her open collar and rose, while he watched in fascination, up her neck and face to the roots of her hair. As if daring him to mention it and without breaking eye contact, she raised her chin, stepped forward and dropped the bag in the middle of his living room.

                He shoved his hands in his pockets, stifling a rising tide of pure want, and turned to Tom. “What time is your dinner reservation? You have a long drive this evening.”

                Tom smiled. “Long, but gorgeous. Just the water and the mountains all the way to San Luis Obispo on the--”

                “The Old Cabrillo Highway,” B’Elanna interrupted. “Then on to Santa Barbara. We know, Tom.”

                Kayma reached for her bag. “Let’s go before we lose the light,” she said.

                “Too bad the rental’s not a convertible,” Harry said, and they all headed for the door.

                Chakotay motioned Kathryn ahead of him, one hand brushing the small of her back.

                The civilian rental car was big and boxy and a shade of bright green that made Chakotay’s eyes hurt. In his right trouser pocket, his fingers closed around The Falcon’s starter.

                Tom and B’Elanna and Harry had helped him find Kayma, they’d organized the teams and joined the operation in spite of great personal risk, and they’d delivered Kathryn to him.

                Chakotay sighed and shook his head at himself.

                “Wait,” he said, just as Harry raised Kayma’s bag to stow it in the trunk. He held the starter out to Tom. “Here. Take The Falcon.”

                Four bright, eager faces turned to him in disbelief. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kathryn smirk and completely ignored her.

                Tom swallowed hard. “Chakotay, you know I’d never ask, but--”

                “You’re the only one who hasn’t, actually.” Chakotay brandished the starter again. “Take it, Tom. Before I change my mind.”

                Were those tears in Tom’s eyes? The younger man reached out slowly. “Are you sure?”

                Chakotay gave him a half shrug, nodding at the group. “A pilot, an engineer and an ops man. What could go wrong?” He aimed a grimace at the rental car. “Just leave me the starter for that old thing in case we want to go anywhere.”

                Kathryn cleared her throat. “If you think I’ll consent to be seen in that eyesore, you can just think again, Chakotay.”

                He took the rental’s starter from Tom and glanced down at Kathryn with a quirked eyebrow. “So I take it you’re just planning to stay in all weekend?”

                She raised her chin at him. “I’m sure we can find ways to entertain each other.”

                The sultry purr in her voice pulled a groan from deep in his throat.

                The four young people stared at them. “I, uh…” Tom began. “I think that’s our cue to go. _Now_.”  He slapped a wide-eyed Harry on the back. “Let’s go _right now_.”

                Chakotay laughed quietly as they bolted in four different directions like a bunch of frightened rabbits. Tom switched their luggage from the rental to The Falcon. Harry flung Kayma’s bag into the trunk and headed for the front passenger door, but Chakotay caught him by the arm first. “You  take care of her, Lieutenant,” he warned, trusting Harry to know precisely what and whom he meant.

                “Of course, sir,” Harry stammered. “I’ll be careful and make sure nothing happens to her. I swear.”

                He tried to maintain his fierce expression, but Harry’s look of pure terror was just too much for him to take. He grinned and released the younger man’s arm. “Have a good trip, Harry.”

                The bewildered Lieutenant dove into The Falcon, slammed the door behind him and stared straight ahead, his hands locked together in his lap. Chakotay leaned over the edge of Kayma’s door. “Try to stay out of trouble this time.”

                Kayma leered. “As long as _you_ try to get _in_ some trouble, Chakotay.”

                He shook his head at her. “You be sure to have a good weekend,” he said, “because I’m sending you back to your mother on Monday.”

                “Fine. I’ll call Abeke and Neka and tell them to start packing.” When he tried to withdraw, she grabbed the lapel of his open shirt, pulled him back down to her and kissed his cheek. “I’m happy for you,” she whispered in his ear. “I love you.”

                “I love you, too, _chitsa_ ,” he replied. “Have fun.”

                As they watched The Falcon speed down the dusty lane, Kathryn looped her arm through his. “I know that was difficult,” she said, patting his bicep, “but you’ve made the children very happy.”

                He shrugged. “It’s just a car.”

                “Of course it is,” she soothed. “And the _Mona Lisa_ is just a painting.”

                He smiled. “Now you’re mocking me.”

                “Never, Chakotay.” She led him towards the house. “Has everyone really asked to drive it?”

                He nodded. “Even the Doc. Even _Tuvok_.”

                She drew back and stared up at him. “You’re kidding.”

                “No. He offered to drive it back here after I left it down the highway when I was looking for Harry and Kayma.” He gave a long-suffering sigh. “And then Seven offered to _assimilate_ it.”

                Kathryn laughed out loud. “So helpful, our Seven.”

                “’Helpful’ isn’t the word I would use,” he grumbled, which just made her laugh harder.

                “Come on,” she said, pulling him through the house. “Show me what you were working on when we interrupted you.”

                In the fading evening light he explained his plans to expand the deck further toward the edge of the bluff so that, when friends and family came to visit, there would be room for a bigger table and more chairs. She paced off the space with her head bent and her eyes fixed on the planks, both new and old, until she reached the southwest corner of the deck, where he’d marked off a rectangle in green chalk. “What goes here?” she asked, looking up at him with an impish twinkle in her bright blue eyes.

                He held her gaze. “I was thinking a hot tub.”

                “I approve,” she said at once.

                “I thought you might. Although…” She shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t need your approval for anything anymore. Do I?”

                She blinked. “No, I don’t suppose you do,” she answered softly, and took a slow step toward him. “Given that there’s no chain of command between us anymore.”

                “No crew,” he said, watching her move, her steps light, her expression unreadable.

                “And no _Voyager_ ,” she finished. She was so close now he could smell her perfume. Just as he had on the night of the wedding, he bent his head to catch every hint of the light, sweet scent. “Can I ask you a question?”

                “Anything,” he breathed.

                She tilted her face up to his. “What’s for dinner?”

                She was trying so hard to rattle him…but he caught her staring at his lips. “I have no idea, Kathryn,” he said, and stepped away from her.

                “What?” she gasped.

                Hiding his smirk of satisfaction from her, he shrugged and bent to gather his hand tools. “When Kayma’s not here, it’s just bread and broth for me.”

                She gave him a hum of disapproval and headed into the house. “You’re a terrible liar, you know,” she threw over her shoulder. “I’m sure there’s something wonderful in that kitchen of yours.”

                “Really, Kathryn,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting company, but I can make you something if you’re hungry.”

                He made to follow her into the house, but in the doorway she turned back with a tender smile and placed a hand in the middle of his chest. “I can manage,” she said. She nodded toward the deck. “Finish putting your things away while I conjure us something to eat. Take a shower if you like.”

                “Is that a not-so-subtle suggestion?”

                With a  laugh, she patted his bare chest. “No, you smell just fine to me. Like fresh air and sunshine. But I know that after a day of working outside you like to clean up before dinner.”

                He caught his breath for a moment. She knew…because she remembered. The hand on his chest was suddenly almost too warm to bear.           “Kathryn..”

                She shook her head a little. “Soon,” she said, and he couldn’t pretend to misunderstand her meaning.

                He inhaled slowly to center himself again and gave her a half smile. “I won’t be long. Use whatever you can find in the kitchen and pantry, but just…try not to burn my house down, all right?”

                She banged her knuckles against his chest. “I take it back. You smell like an old bear, Chakotay, and if you don’t take a shower I’m calling Starfleet for a beamout.” With a defiant toss of her braid, she turned her back on him and disappeared into the house.

                He puttered on the deck for a few more minutes, just long enough to stow his tools in the a locker and cover the unsealed planks with a waterproof tarp to protect them from the day’s humidity. When he sauntered back into the house, Kathryn was happily humming to herself in the kitchen, surrounded by bowls and pans from his cabinet and boxes and bins from his pantry. For just a moment he feared for the safety of his digestive tract, but surely, with fresh ingredients at hand and not a replicator in sight, she couldn’t concoct anything noxious enough to poison them. So he gave her a cheerful wave and headed for his bathroom, stripping off his sodden shirt as he went.

                In the hallway between his room and Kayma’s, he nearly tripped over Kathryn’s duffle bag.

                Interesting. Last time he’d seen the thing, it had been in the middle of his living room floor. Either Kathryn had suddenly developed a neat streak or she was trying to tell him something. He leaned back to glance into the kitchen, but she had her back to him and appeared to be carrying on a one-sided argument with his stove.

                Standing in the shower under a stream of hot water, it occurred to him that maybe she was really trying to _ask_ him something. The placement of the bag, halfway between his room and Kayma’s now-empty one, could be a subtle way of gauging his interest. Would he move the bag? And if so… _where?_ Which room?

                He knew exactly where he _wanted_ to put it, and her, and not just for the weekend.

                With a jolt, he groaned and ordered the water to a colder setting.

                Ten minutes later, he almost had to dive back into the cold shower when he strolled into his room in search of clean clothes and discovered the bag resting on the end of his bed.

                He stared at it, shocked at first, but then with a knowing grin. He threw on an old pair of gym shorts and an Academy Boxing Club T-shirt and padded barefoot back to the kitchen.

                She barely glanced up from grating carrots when he leaned against the countertop beside her. “Feel better?” she asked. When he hummed an affirmative reply, she leaned close to him. “You certainly smell better.”

                He snatched a whole carrot from the pile and bit into it. “You left something in my room,” he said between bites.

                “Did I?” She set aside the carrots and took up a bunch of bright green herbs, twisting them in her fingertips and tearing them into small pieces. “I’ll be sure to retrieve it later.”

                He munched his carrot. “What are you making?”

                With a sigh, she reached into the chiller and brought out a large serving bowl full of noodles and chopped vegetables. “I _was_ going to make you a stir-fry. But your stove and I have not yet come to an understanding, so we’ll have this instead. I found the vegetables and the leftover noodles in the chiller and made a sauce from the things in your pantry.” She dumped the carrots into the bowl along with the shredded cilantro and a handful of chopped peanuts. “Spicy peanut noodle salad. Best I could do on short notice.”

                Chakotay stared. “I’m impressed, Kathryn. Maybe you really can cook and your problem is just with replicators.” She swatted him on the arm. “I mean it. Cooking is nothing but applied science, and you’re a scientist.”

                “Maybe I’ve discovered a latent talent.”

                “Maybe you have.” He eyed the ingredients in the bowl. “I couldn’t have done any better myself. All you need are a few lime wedges.”

                She raised a hand and reached into the chiller again, emerging with a bowl of lime wedges and a triumphant smile. “ _Voila_.”

                He chuckled. “You’re amazing. Just when I think you can’t surprise me anymore, you do.”

                She rolled her eyes at him. “Maybe you should wait until you’ve tasted it.”

                “I’m sure it’s delicious.”

                “How about you grab us a drink and we go find out? Meet me on the deck?”

                “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, avoiding the annoyed little kick she aimed at his shin as she passed by, bowl and plates in hand.

                From the chiller he chose a bottle of Moscato – light and sweet, the perfect accompaniment for the spicy salad, but also with a lower alcohol content than their normal fare. Chakotay hadn’t eaten since breakfast and knew anything stronger would go directly to his head. He had a feeling he’d want to be clear-headed for the next few hours so he’d be able to remember them for the rest of his life.

                By the time he got to the deck she’d dished up two plates of noodle salad and was waiting expectantly for her drink. He fumbled with the corkscrew for a moment before he realized he hadn’t regained enough feeling in his left hand to hang on to the bottle properly. Moving the bottle to his right hand, he slapped the left one against his thigh until she reached out and stopped him.

                “Chakotay? What’s wrong?” Her blue eyes were clouded with worry when he looked up.

                “Aftereffect of the neurotoxin,” he answered. “My hand goes numb sometimes.”

                She frowned. “Harry doesn’t have any side effects.”

                “No, but he was shot with a  different weapon. Suder’s was a just a prototype.” He clenched and unclenched his fist a few times. “The Jem’Hadar were carrying a more sophisticated version, loaded with a more potent neurotoxin.”

                “Should I call the Doc?”

                He shook his head. “It’ll be all right in a few minutes.” With a sheepish smile, he handed her the bottle and the corkscrew. “But if you want a drink, you’ll have to open this yourself.”

                They ate in silence for a time. The noodle salad was delicious, satisfying but not too heavy in the evening heat, and the fizzy, fruity Moscato contrasted perfectly with the dish’s spiciness.  While they ate,  he made an effort to keep the conversation light.

                “How did your inquiry go?” he asked. “Will there be any repercussions for destroying the ship?”

                She shook her head. “The Review Board asked a lot of pointed questions, but in the end they found that what you and I and Owen testified was true: It was the best decision we could make with the information at hand. We had no way of knowing that the _Sagan_ and _T’Pask_ and _Enterprise_ would get there so quickly. And Nechayev and Hayes tried to hide it, but I suspect they’re relieved that they no longer have to decide what to do with _Voyager_.” She sipped her wine. “Frankly, they were more concerned with why I took the first shot in the firefight.”

                He twirled his glass in his fingertips. “I wondered about that, too.”

                She stared out at the water and the setting sun for a long moment. “I couldn’t listen to him anymore, Chakotay,” she murmured, her face still turned away from him. “I know your peace was hard-won, and the way Evek tried to shake it…” She raised her chin, as if daring the entire Pacific Ocean to defy her. “I just couldn’t let him do it.”

                “You didn’t think I would do something…impulsive…did you?’

                With a crooked smile, she reached out and took his left hand in hers.  He was pleased to find that he could feel it now, and noted that her skin was soft and cool against his. “No. I knew you wouldn’t. But I also knew how much his words had to have hurt you, and I couldn’t stand it.”

                He squeezed her hand. “And did the Review Board accept that as justification?”

                She gave him a crooked smile. “Not for a second,” she replied.

                He wanted to ask if there had been any repercussions for taking that first shot, but she turned away again as if attempting to close the subject. So he contented himself with a simple, “Thank you, Kathryn,” and let it drop.

                “When do you go back to teaching?” she asked.

                “Monday. Tuvok’s been covering my classes this week.”

                Kathryn laughed. “I’m sure your students enjoyed that.”

                “I’ll hear all about it on Monday, no doubt.” He glanced at her with a smile. “Thank you for taking the boxing team down to UCLA while I was still in the hospital.”

                She shrugged. “It was fun.” She lowered her voice. “Granor and Z’Mora both fought honorably.”

                He gave a soft chuckle. “So I heard. Granor called me the next morning. But I understand Senek didn’t fare so well.”

                “All the way back to San Francisco he kept telling me that really, he’s a pacifist.”

                “He’s certainly no boxer.”

                “Definitely not.” She toyed with her wineglass. “Do you think Professor Pastinha would consent to reforming the Capoeira team for him?”

                Chakotay cocked his head to one side, considering the idea, and his Cadet. Senek had the natural grace he’d come to expect from young Vulcans, but had always been reluctant to actually land a punch. Capoeira would satisfy the boy’s physical training requirement, while just barely addressing his self-defense requirement –at least until he willed himself to fulfill the requirement in the more accepted way. “That’s a good idea, Kathryn. I’ll ask Isobel on Monday.”

                The sun continued to sink over the ocean, taking a measure of the day’s oppressive heat and humidity with it. A cool breeze blew in off the water. It quickly dried the lingering dampness in his short hair and fluttered the hem of Kathryn’s dress. He offered to take their drinks inside, but she shook her head at him with a smile. “I do love it here,” she said. “It’s so peaceful.”

                He nodded. “Kayma has been threatening to move here permanently.”

                “How is she doing?”

                “She’s fine. She stayed with me at Starfleet Medical until they released me.”

                “B’Elanna told me. Was she afraid to come home alone?”

                He nodded solemnly. “She’s led a pretty sheltered life. I think the whole thing rattled her more than she let on.”

                “But she was amazing, Chakotay. Once she shook off her initial fear, she was observant and helpful. And she was so compassionate toward Suder.” Kathryn gave him a crooked smile. “More than I was, to be honest.” She sipped her wine. “I visited him on Tuesday. He only wanted to talk about you.”

                Chakotay scowled. “Is he angry he didn’t get his revenge?”

                “Actually, no.” Her eyes were very soft on him. “He said that before your team led him away, he saw you with Kayma. He said…” She folded her hands in her lap. “He said that’s all he really wanted: To lead a normal life, and to have someone look at him the way she looks at you. He wanted to know if he’d ever have that.”

                Chakotay swallowed around the lump in his throat and looked away. “And when I got to him, all I wanted to do…”

                She touched his hand again. “But you didn’t.”

                “Because of you.”

                She shook her head. “I only reminded you of who you really are.”

                He smiled. “And saved me from myself.”

                “It’s what we’ve always done for each other, isn’t it?”

                He nodded. “What’s going to happen to Suder now?”

                “Rehab and then trial. He’ll be prosecuted, but the Doc found so much in his system besides the psylosinine that there’s no way he was responsible for his actions while he was under the True Way’s influence.”

                Something had been gnawing at him since Owen’s revelation at Starfleet Medical. “Was it really just the True Way, or was the Dominion involved as well?”

                Her lips drawn together in a thin, grim line, she turned away from him. “That’ll all come out in Evek’s trial.”

                Chakotay blinked. “I look forward to that,” he said slowly. “I assume I’ll be called to testify?”

                “We all will. Tell Kayma she can’t leave the planet.”

                He gave a soft chuckle. “I don’t think she’s going anywhere for a while. Not if Harry has anything to say about it.”

                She laughed, too. “He’s a quick study, our Harry. They’re cute together.”

                “They’re good for each other. He’ll be a stabilizing influence on her, and she’ll bring out his playful side.”

                “So you approve?”

                “Very much.” He rubbed his chin. “Not that my disapproval would stop her, of course.”

                “Of course.”

                They watched in silence as the last rays of the setting sun painted the sky with red and gold. Chakotay closed his eyes, listening to the surf crash below and the first signs of the forest coming to life all around them in the gathering darkness. These were the sounds he’d missed during seven years on _Voyager_. Moving water. Leaves in the breeze. Birds and insects and animals. He glanced at Kathryn from lowered lids and wondered if she’d missed them, too.

                She turned abruptly and caught him staring at her. “What is it?” she asked.

                He gave her a soft smile. “Just enjoying the view.”

                To his surprise, she blushed again. “I spoke with Richard yesterday,” she said softly.

                Chakotay’s heart began to pound in his chest. “Oh?”

                “Right after Kayma called me and told me she was going away with Harry for the weekend.” She drained her glass and set it aside.      “I said I couldn’t see him anymore.”

                Chakotay swallowed hard. “How did he take it?” _And why didn’t you let me watch?_

                She gave him a half shrug. “Not well,” she said. “He was shocked, to be honest. I suspect he thought that this last crisis would be enough to convince me to resign my commission, move into his mansion in Cupertino and never go to space again.”

                He smiled. “He doesn’t know you very well.”

                “No, he doesn’t,” she said, and held his gaze for a long, electric moment.

                He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. “Can I ask you a question about him?” She raised her chin and gave him a wary look. “Don’t answer if you don’t want to, but… Why him? Why Tenson and Councilman Deegan?”        

                She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Why all the older men?” When he nodded, she turned and looked out over the water for a long quiet moment. “I was thirty-eight years old when I took command of _Voyager_ ,” she began. “I’d been engaged twice but never married. And I’d known the man I was engaged to…almost my whole life.”

                He started to offer her words of comfort and consolation on the breakup of that engagement, but she held up her hand to stop him. “I’m glad Mark moved on,” she said. “If he hadn’t, if he was still waiting for me when we got back…I’d have broken things off with him anyway.”

                He had no answer for that, so he simply watched her rise and stroll to the edge of the deck, her gaze fixed on a distant point somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. “When we got back, I had to relearn who I was again, and part of that was figuring out what kind of relationship I wanted…if I even wanted a relationship.”

                “You weren’t sure?”

                “No, not at all.” She turned to face him again. “And I didn’t want to risk hurting someone I truly care about until I knew. Understand?”

                He nodded, unable to speak.

                She turned back to the water. “I thought at first that the fact that they were all ten years older than me was just a coincidence.”

                “It wasn’t?”

                Her laugh was low and dark. “In retrospect, no, it wasn’t. I felt like I aged a couple of decades out there, Chakotay, not just seven years. I locked myself into thinking I needed someone…settled.”

                “So…” he said, casting a nervous glance at his house and his yard and the lumber piled neatly for his new deck. “You _don’t_ want settled?”

                She turned an impish smile on him. “I’ve decided that ’settled,’ I can live with. ‘Boring,’ I can’t abide.”

                He grinned. “Fair enough.”

                She nodded once, decisively, and turned back to the water, her hands on her hips. He was transfixed by the sight. “As for Richard…” She sighed. “My senses were trying to tell me something that my conscious mind didn’t want to admit.”

                “Trying to talk yourself into something that wasn’t there?”

                She hummed her agreement. “I just wasn’t attracted to him. I tried to rationalize it away for weeks, but in the end...” She favored him again with that mischievous, lopsided grin he’d loved since the first time he’d caught a glimpse of it. “The heart knows.”

                “Is that what you told Richard? ‘The heart knows?’”

                “More or less.” She sauntered over to him and perched a hip on the table next to him. “He warned me about you, you know.”

                “You told him you were coming here tonight?”

                “No, but he figured it out. I think it all goes back to the night of the wedding, when he noticed that I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”

                His mouth nearly fell open. “Really?”

                She nodded. “I thought at first it was the occasion, or maybe the champagne and the music had gone to my head. Maybe even the full moon.” When she reached out and ran the back s of her fingers over his cheekbone and into his hair, he held his breath. “Then I decided it was the suit. I hadn’t seen you in a month, and I hadn’t seen you out of uniform since before Earth. I’ve always loved a man in uniform, of course, but that suit… That beautiful suit…”

                He nodded toward the house. “It’s hanging in my closet, if the two of you would like to be alone.”

                She punched his shoulder. “No, but we will have to find an occasion for you to put it on again.”

                “Done.” He placed a hand on her knee. “As long as you wear that dress.”

                “It’s a deal.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “Richard thinks you’re a hothead.”

                “Does he?”

                She nodded. “Hotheaded, violent and disrespectful.”

                “’Disrespectful?’” he echoed in protest. “Where did he get that idea?”

                She dropped her hand to his shoulder. “You cut him off on the comm.”

                “That was Owen,” he corrected, and shrugged when she cocked an eyebrow. “He only beat me to it by about half a second, though. If Owen hadn’t cut Richard off, I would have. I had much bigger fish to fry.”

                She gasped and shook her head at him, hands clamped over her mouth.

                Alarmed, he stood up suddenly. “Kathryn?”

                Her laugh, when it finally began, sounded like it came from the depths of her soul. Doubled over, her fist twisted into the front of his shirt, she laughed until there were tears on her cheeks, until she was gasping for breath. He found himself chuckling along with her. “You’re not going to tell me why that’s funny, are you?”

                She shook her head and laughed harder, leaning her forehead against his chest for balance.

                “Well, as long as it made you laugh, I guess I don’t need to know.” When she looked up at him, he saw that a few more tendrils of auburn hair had escaped from the braid and framed her face with soft waves. He smoothed them away with his fingertips. “You’re beautiful when you laugh.”

                She placed both hands on his chest. “Chakotay…”

                He smiled down at her. “You’re always beautiful to me. You always have been. But when you laugh… You laugh with every part of you. Your eyes, your face, your whole spirit lights up. _You_ light up. And I can’t look away. I want to make you laugh like that every day, every hour for the rest of our lives.”

                She drew in a sharp breath. “What are you saying, Chakotay?” Her eyes were luminous and endless in the low light.

                The vow he’d made to himself on _Voyager_ came back to him. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, curling his hands around hers. “I just want to be yours again,” he answered. “I think I was once, or I could have been. But I made a mistake, and—“

                “We both did.”

                He shook his head at her. “I made a promise I didn’t keep, and I want to make up for it in whatever way you’ll allow. If you only want my friendship back, it’s yours. If you want nothing from me at all, I can live with that, too. I know this puts me in a position of weakness. Maybe that diminishes me in your eyes.”

                She gasped and tried to pull away from him, but he refused to let her go. “But loving isn’t a weakness. It’s a strength. It’s _my_ strength. It’s made me strong enough to accept whatever you can give me, even if it’s just friendship. Because I’ve come to realize I’m no good to any other woman, Kathryn. I don’t think I ever will be, not as long as I love you the way I do now.”

                When he saw her blink back tears, he smiled again. “So here I stand, ready and willing to be whatever you want me to be. Colleague, friend, lover.” He lowered his voice. “Husband, if you’d have me. But that’s what I want, Kathryn. To be yours again, your man, as much of me as you want, in whatever way you want me.” 

                The electric moment lingered between them. Time bent and shook and hurtled into the past. Seven years of deep and complicated friendship, seven years of misunderstandings and mistakes, seven years of uncrossed barriers and unspoken words hovered over them. The memories were so thick and so real he felt he could touch them, if only he were willing to let go of her hands.

                Slowly, silently, she lowered herself from her perch on the table, her body sliding against his, her eyes boring into his. “I want all of you,” she whispered, “in every way.”

                Her words drew the very breath from his lungs. He swayed once, eyes closed in silent thanks…and pounced.

-END Part 19-


	20. Chapter 20

** Part 20 **

                With a soft thud, the duffle bag hit the floor.

                It was the last of many items to end up there.

                The first was an empty wine glass, jostled by the force of two bodies, one small and lean, the other large and strong, lurching against the edge of the table. The glass didn’t break. Even nine months removed from space, Chakotay was still in the habit of choosing items that would not shatter into a thousand deadly projectiles in the event of artificial gravity loss. So the glass merely toppled over, rolled across the table and fell to the deck, where it bounced twice, end over end, and tumbled over the edge.

                Locked in a searing, soul-deep and long-awaited kiss, neither Chakotay nor Kathryn noticed it.

                The empty wine bottle followed it a moment later. Its trajectory was more haphazard and noisier, due both to its greater mass and the slight swaying of the table beneath it.

                Chakotay and Kathryn didn’t notice the bottle, either.

                When the first dinner plate, flipped into sudden motion by a large hand seeking a flat surface for leverage, skidded across the table and clattered to the deck, a skinny gray rabbit darted from the shade under the deck and dove for cover into the high backyard grass.

                Chakotay sensed the rabbit’s careening flight and opened one eye. He kept it open just long enough to notice the rest of the dinner dishes littering the table around Kathryn’s backside…her firm, beautiful backside, which filled his palms just so and made him want to…

                The dishes were in his way.

                He closed his eye again and drew Kathryn away from the table, which had the sensual side effect of pulling her closer to his eager body. Distracted by the feel of her pressed against him at thigh and belly and lips, he forgot about the dishes.

                When she reached under his shirt and smoothed her cool, slim hands up his back, he almost forgot his own name.

                He wrapped his hands around that beautiful backside, lifted her up and perched her on the edge of the table again. He started to cover her body with his own…but the dishes were still in the way. Before he could decide what to do about them – Ignore them? Move them to the side? Run them back to the kitchen? – Kathryn disengaged from his kiss, pulled one hand out from under his shirt and, in one swift and decisive motion, turned and swept the entire contents of the table to the deck.

                The resulting crash of plates and glasses and a half-full serving bowl caused three more panicked rabbits to flee the scene.

                Chakotay couldn’t help it. He tried to focus on her eyes, her lips, the pulse throbbing at the side of her pale, slender neck, but he just had to look. As surreptitiously as he could, he eyed the untidy pile of dishes. Kathryn launched herself back at his lips, but stopped when she saw the expression his face. “What?”

                He nodded toward the pile. “You made a mess.”

                She raised her chin and, displaying the same air of decision with which she’d cleared the table, stood up, yanked the linen dress over her head and dropped it on top of the dishes. “Now it’s cloaked,” she said. “Satisfied?”

                “Not yet,” he growled, feeling his body react to the sight of her, hands on hips, clad only in two strips of cobalt-colored silk. His fingers itched to touch every centimeter of her skin, alabaster white in the evening light. “But I soon will be.” He guided her down onto the table until she was prone and he was looming over her, his mouth fused to hers, his hands caressing every part of her that he could reach. Neck, collarbone, breasts, belly, thighs… He skimmed his palms over them all, making note of her every shiver and moan, her every sigh of ecstasy.

                She tugged at his shirt. “Take this off,” she husked, low and breathy, and the voice was one he’d heard a hundred times before. It was the tone she used only when he was speaking to him; she never addressed Tom or Tuvok or Harry or Seven that way. The sudden awareness that she’d always reserved that throaty purr just for him nearly sent him over the edge, and he was still fully clothed. With almost indecent haste, he jerked the T-shirt up and over his head and tossed it to the deck.

                Before he could lower himself to her again, she sat up and fanned her hands across his chest. “You’re gorgeous,” she murmured. “I always knew you would be.” She slid her hands and arms around his waist and pressed a kiss to his heart.

                The feel of her slender body wrapped around his own sent that white-hot bolt of pure want all through him again. He groaned and pressed her to the table. The sweet sensation of skin on skin was almost overpowering. They both gasped at the abrupt heat of it, and Chakotay realized that he’d been anticipating this perfect moment since the wedding…or maybe since the luau…or possibly since the first sight of her on his viewscreen, almost eight years ago.

                He licked his way across her collarbone, up her lily-white throat and over her jaw until he reached her delicate little ear. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” he whispered.

                “I know.” She pressed her lips to the side of his face. “So have I. I thought I’d lost you.”

                “Never, Kathryn,” he promised, and kissed her.

                She came to life in his arms. She was like quicksilver, unpredictable and unrestrained. She tugged his hair and smiled at his protest, she tickled his ribs and watched his flesh quiver in response, she palmed his length and smirked when he hissed his pleasure. For years, he’d watched her this way in Engineering or on the Bridge, focusing all her insatiable curiosity and fierce intelligence on whatever puzzle or crisis was at hand. But to have all that energy focused on _him_ …it was too much.

                When she reached for the waistband of his shorts, he drew away and stopped her hands. “Wait,” he pleaded.

                Her gaze flicked up from his body to his face. “Why?”

                He cast about for a believable answer and finally settled on the truth, vowing then and there to be as honest with her now as he’d always been. “Because I want to remember this, and I want it to last, but if you don’t let go of me it’s all going to be over in about two minutes.”

                She tilted her head to one side, considering it. “I’m okay with that,” she finally said. The lopsided smile she offered made him twitch in her hands.

                He gritted his teeth and stopped her again. “I’m not.”

                She let out an exasperated sigh. “Chakotay--”

                With a nod, he indicated the surface she was sitting on. “Also, the table.”

                She turned and knocked her knuckles against it. “Did you build this?”

                “Yes, but--”

                She patted and stroked it. “Then I’m sure it’s sturdy enough for us.”

                His knees nearly gave way. “But it’s uncomfortable.”

                She quirked an eyebrow at him, her expression frosty. “You sound like you speak from experience.”

                With a chuckle, he pulled her hands away from his body and kissed her fingertips. “No. That’s just a hunch. But if we do this here, we’re both going to be too sore to do what I’ve got in mind for later tonight.” He turned her hands over and kissed both palms. “And in the morning.” He licked the inside of her wrist. “And all day tomorrow.”

                “You didn’t even know I would be here this weekend,” she pointed out, and he was gratified to hear that her voice wasn’t quite as controlled as it had been a moment ago. “You couldn’t have planned that far ahead.”

                 “Old Maquis trick,” he said in a low voice, his lips on her ear. He pressed his body to hers, trapping her against the table. “Always have a tactic ready for when opportunity rises.”

                She moaned into his neck. “I’m convinced. Can we just go to bed now?”

                “I thought you’d never ask.”

                He ushered her ahead of him into the house, enjoying the sway of her hips.

                In fact, he enjoyed her sultry swagger so much, he grabbed her just inside the door and pinned her to the wall for a long, hungry kiss.

                In the living room, he unhooked her bra and let it fall to the floor.

                Near the fireplace, she peeled off his gym shorts.

                In the hallway, he located tie that held her braid together, pulled it free and dropped it.

                In the doorway to his bedroom, she paused, hooked her thumbs into the last remaining garment between them, and shinnied it to the floor.

                At the foot of his bed, he picked up the duffle bag. He let it dangle from his fingertips for a long second, his eyes on hers, questioning.

                She gave a sheepish shrug and batted it out of his hands.

                It fell to the floor with a soft thud.

                Kathryn and Chakotay leapt headlong into the bed.

                Out on the deck, four skinny rabbits nosed through the leavings of dinner and discovered they liked carrots covered with peanut sauce.

-END Part 20-


	21. Chapter 21

** Epilogue **

                The morning sun, rising over the ancient oaks and redwoods and streaming in through the pale green curtains, was too bright.

                Maybe the wine, light and fruity, had gone to her head.

                Maybe the fresh air inside the bedroom, chilled by the slight breeze that blew through the open window and lifted the ends of her hair, had heightened her perceptions.

                Maybe the occasion, the morning after loving and being loved more thoroughly than she could ever remember, had overwhelmed her senses.

                Maybe the combination of all three, like the perfect tiramisu layers of coffee-infused ladyfingers and sweet mascarpone cheese and cocoa, had simply left her in a happy, sated haze.

                Kathryn burrowed deeper into the big, soft bed.

                Maybe it was the man.

                The strong, solid man, sprawled across the bed like an offering to the too-bright sun, showing off more smooth, golden skin than she’d seen since…

                She sighed.

                It was definitely the man.

                As if suddenly conscious of her scrutiny, the man rolled to his side, opened his eyes and grinned. “Good morning,” he said.

                “Good morning.” She reached out and stroked his cheek, causing him to grin even wider. “You look smug.”

                He chuckled. “I feel smug.”

                She batted at his shoulder. “You’re going to be insufferable now, aren’t you?”

                He nodded happily and leaned over to kiss her. “You look beautiful.” He stroked a hand through her hair. “Well loved.”

                Kathryn groaned. “I’ve created a monster.”

                Without warning, he rolled her beneath him. “No, you just unchained one.”

                “Oh god, you _are_ insuffera--”

                Before she could finish the word, he closed his mouth over hers.

                Half an hour later, she was caressing his cheeks again as he held himself above her, braced on his elbows. “You look like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar—after he’s eaten all the cookies.”

                He laughed. “I feel young this morning, but definitely not like a little boy.”

                She tapped his chin. “And I’ve seen that grin before,” she said.

                “Have you?”

                She nodded. “On the Bridge. I was at Tom's station, and I turned around and caught you staring at my backside. You looked sheepish for just an instant, then you grinned.” She ran her fingertips across his lips. “Just like this.”

                He shook his head. “That never happened.”

                “You're not actually going to try to deny that, are you?”

                He snickered. “Would it do me any good?”

                “No.”

                He sighed and finally rolled off her. “All right. I confess. Do you want me to go before a Review Board, Admiral, or can I just submit a written statement?”

                She yawned and stretched her arms above her head. “A statement will be sufficient, Commander.”

                “Yes, ma’am.” He cleared his throat. “'To Whom It May Concern: While stranded in the Delta Quadrant with nothing more interesting to look at, I, Commander Chakotay, did knowingly, willingly, and while on duty check out my commanding officer's ass. Repeatedly, and without remorse.'”

                She rolled her eyes. “Owen would love to hear that, I'm sure.”

                “'I'd like to add that in my defense --'”

                “Oh, this should be good,” she muttered.

                “'In my defense,’” he continued, “’my commanding officer couldn't seem to keep her little white hands off me.'”

                She sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest. “Chakotay!”

                Chakotay laughed. “It's true, Kathryn. By the end of the first year my shoulder was dislocated from being squeezed and my chest was bruised from being poked.”

                Kathryn waved a dismissive hand at him and reclined into the bed again. “You're delusional.”

                “And you have very pointy fingers.”

                “I do not.”

                “Yes, you do.” He leaned over her and placed a soft kiss at the base of her throat. “And you just loved to emphasize your orders by poking me.”

                “I never poked you.”

                He shook his head and laughed at her. “Kathryn...”

                She made a show of pulling the sheet and blanket all the way to her chin. “All right, maybe I did. But if it bothered you so much, why didn't you say something?”

                “It didn’t bother me. In fact, I usually enjoyed it.” He pulled the sheet and blanket back down, exposing her body to him. “I was pretty sure that was as close to fraternization as I was ever going to get with you,” he murmured, and dove toward her breasts, but she pulled him up to face her.

                “You know why it had to be that way.”

                For just an instant, he looked like he might argue with her. Instead, he nodded once and smiled. “I know. And it’s over now.” He kissed her cheek and propped himself up on one elbow. “Furthermore, I’m sure I’m not the only one who was having thoughts unbecoming an officer.”

                “Is that an accusation, Commander?”

                “Oh, yes.” He licked his lips. “In fact, I think your thoughts about me were sometimes downright…lascivious.”

                “What makes you say that?” Her gaze flicked to his mouth. She wished he would say “lascivious” again.

                He laughed out loud and shook his head at her. “There! You just did it, Kathryn.”

                 She blinked. “What? What did I do?”

                “You’re staring at my mouth.”

                With difficulty, she tore her gaze away from his lips and back to his eyes. “I am not.”

                “But you were. And you did it all. The. Time.” He punctuated each word with a kiss on the point of her chin and at both corners of her mouth. Not where she wanted to be kissed. At all.

                Frustrated and irritated, she tried to push him away from her. “I did not.”

                “Yes, you did.” He leaned into her again, and she pushed him away again.

                “Give me one example, Chakotay.”

                “Only one?” She swatted at his shoulder and he flinched away with a laugh. “All right, one example. The best one.” He flopped down on his back, his head pillowed on one arm. She missed his warmth immediately. “The very first time we stood face to face on the Bridge,” he began. “I was a mess. I was angry at Tom and Tuvok, embarrassed that I’d been duped so easily, and afraid for B’Elanna. I was ready to hit someone, or shoot someone, or…” His voice trailed off and he gave his head a little shake.

                Kathryn found his free hand and squeezed it. She remembered the moment, too. “You’ve come so far from that angry man, Chakotay.”

                He nodded and gave her a grateful smile. “Then you stepped between Paris and me. I was impressed, Kathryn. I’m almost twenty centimeters taller than you, and I probably outweigh you by a good thirty-five or forty kilos. But you stepped right up to me and ordered me to stand down like you owned me.” He sighed. “Half a second later when I caught you looking at my mouth like you wanted to kiss me…you did own me. You have ever since.”

                Caught between wanting to deny it on principle and knowing he’d never believe her if she did, Kathryn did the only thing she could. She wriggled and slithered her body over his and attempted to kiss him until they both passed out from lack of oxygen.

                When she finally drew away, she gave him the crooked smile she knew he loved. “All right, I admit it. I thought about kissing you right then and there, and a thousand times after that. Should I prepare a statement for Owen, too?”

                He laughed. “No, I think two in one day might give the man a heart attack.” He ran his hands through her hair, his expression sobering as he did so. “I am going to contact him this week, though.”

                His sudden seriousness caught her by surprise. “Whatever for?”

                “I want to upgrade the security on your townhouse.”

                She rolled off him. “Chakotay…”

                He followed her across the bed. “What happened last weekend… It scared me, Kathryn. It could have been prevented if the security on your house were tighter.”

                “I won’t be a prisoner in my own home.” She tried to move further away from him, but he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back to him.

                “You won’t be. I’ve talked to Tuvok and B’Elanna and Harry, and we think we can design a system that’ll recognize unique biosignatures and activate or deactivate accordingly. Once it’s in place and programmed, you won’t have to arm or disarm it. You won’t even know it’s there.”

                She considered it, then wriggled around to face him. “I’ll want to see the schematics.”

                “Of course.”

                “And I’ll want to be there when it’s installed.”

                He nodded. “That’s a given.”

                She sighed. “All right. I’ll agree to this on one condition.”

                With a relieved smile, he kissed the tip of her nose. “Name it.”

                She placed her hand over his heart. “You put the same system in place here.”

                Surprised, he drew away from her a fraction. “I’m not a target, am I?”

                She shook her head. “No, but  you could be, once this relationship is public knowledge. Also…” She took a deep breath. “I’m planning to spend a lot of time here. Maybe all of my time here, when I’m away from HQ.” She bit her lip. “If you’ll have me?”

                Just as he had in her townhouse a week ago, he went so still she thought he might have stopped breathing. Then he closed his eyes and fell into her embrace. “Of course I’ll have you, Kathryn,” he whispered. There was a hitch in his voice that she’d never heard before. She wrapped her arms around him, moved by the depth of his emotion. “I was going to ask,” he continued. “But not for a few months. I was afraid if I pushed too hard too fast, I’d lose you.”

                She stroked his broad back in a soft, soothing gesture. “Never,” she said. “And we’ve got eight years to make up for. It’ll be easier if I’m here most of the time.”

                He drew back to look into her eyes. “So you’re moving in.”

                She nodded. “I’m moving in. I’ll have to keep the townhouse in San Francisco for professional use, but this,” she waved her hand to take in the room, the house, the surrounding forest and ocean. “This is home now.”

                He blinked back tears and molded his body to hers.

                They were still tangled in each other later when the cottage’s comm system sounded. She pulled back from his beautiful mouth. “Should you get that?”

                “I’m not expecting anyone to call.” He nipped at the soft skin under her chin. “And I’m busy right now.”

                “So you’re just going to ignore it?”

                “Whoever it is will leave a message.”

                The comm system sounded again. “It could be an emergency,” she said.

                “I doubt it.”

                A third whine from the comm system. She pushed him off her. “It could be for me.”

                He finally drew back. “Wouldn’t Starfleet use your personal comm?”

                She gave him a coy smile. “I didn’t bring it. But I did tell Owen where he could find me.”

                Chakotay sighed. “Computer,” he called, “state the origin of the incoming communication.”

                The disembodied voice drifted in from the comm station in the living room, just loud enough for them both to hear. _“Incoming signal originates in Santa Barbara, California.”_

                They exchanged a startled glance. Chakotay launched himself from the bed and was out of the room so fast she didn’t even have time to admire his body in the too-bright sunlight. She rolled out of the bed, rummaged in her duffle bag for her robe and followed him into the living room, where he was tugging on his discarded gym shorts and reaching for the comm.

                “Chakotay here,” he panted.

                Over his shoulder, she saw Harry’s face appear on the screen. _“Hey, Commander,”_ he said nervously. _“Good morning.”_ He jumped a little when Kathryn strolled up behind Chakotay and placed her hand on his shoulder, but recovered quickly. _“Oh, and Admiral. Good morning. We didn’t, uh, didn’t wake you, did we?”_

                Kathryn watched Chakotay’s fingers grip the edge of the comm station. “Where’s Kayma?”

                Harry slid over and Kayma entered the picture. _“Right here, Chakotay.”_ She winked. _“You’re looking happy this morning. You too, Kathryn.”_

                Kathryn blushed and gave the girl a little wave.

                Exasperated, Chakotay leaned toward the screen. “What’s going on, Kayma?”

                Kayma started to answer, but there was a deafening crash behind her, a startled male yelp and a string of Klingon curses. _“Maybe B’Elanna should explain.”_

                Harry shook his head. _“Oh, no. B’Elanna had nothing to do with this. This was Tom. Pure Tom._ All _Tom.”_ The young man turned to address Chakotay alone. _“One hundred percent Tom. The rest of us are completely innocent.”_

                Kathryn could have sworn she heard Chakotay’s teeth grind together. “Then get Tom,” he growled. “Or B’Elanna. Or maybe you can explain, Harry, because I’m sure whatever he’s done and no matter how innocent you think you are, the two of you were right behind him, cheering him on.”

                Harry’s eyes went wide. _“I’ll just go get Tom and B’Elanna,”_ he said, and darted out of the frame, leaving a smirking Kayma behind. Kathryn tried to make out exactly where the signal was originating. The room behind Kayma looked more like a workshop than a luxury resort.

                The girl grinned at them both. _“I take it you had a good night?”_

                Chakotay shook his head at her. “Don’t change the subject. What the hell is going on?”

                She rolled her eyes at him. _“I miss you, too, Cousin,”_ she muttered, and stepped slightly aside to reveal B’Elanna dragging Tom toward the comm station. Harry shuffled behind them, looking sheepish and nervous. The three of them carried on a quick and heated argument, then Harry and B’Elanna together shoved Tom toward the station.

                Kathryn watched her longtime pilot put on his most innocent, charming expression, but it came with extreme difficulty. _“Good morning, Commander, Admiral,”_ he said with forced cheer. _“I’m glad we caught up with you. How are you on this fine day?”_

                Chakotay lurched toward the screen. “Report, Lieutenant!” he thundered. “Now!”

                Tom’s face fell. He ran both hands through his hair, rubbed his eyes and sighed. _“I’m so sorry, Chakotay,”_ he said with remorse that Kathryn could almost feel through the comm system _._ _“It’s about your car…”_

-THE END-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so what was the point of all that, anyway? :-)
> 
> Here's the thing: I've wanted to write a Star Trek novel since I was old enough to read one -- which, for the record, would have been in about 1982. That was the year I discovered Marshak and Culbreath's "New Voyages" collections of fan-written short stories. I was 12 years old, and I was completely blown away. "This is what I want to do for the rest of my life!" I declared. I wrote my first TOS fanfic that same summer.
> 
> It was godawful. I swore I'd never do it again.
> 
> And I didn't...until about 5 minutes after the closing credits of "Caretaker," the pilot episode of "Star Trek: Voyager." Something about those characters, especially Janeway and Chakotay, spoke to me then. They speak to me still. I wrote a fair bit of fanfic in the early years of Voyager, but then my daughter was born in 1998 and Real Life precluded most creative pursuits, although I did continue to read all the Trek novels until about 2006.
> 
> Then a few things happened all at once in early 2012. My daughter got old enough to not need Mom and Dad for much more than meals, movie money and rides to the mall, so I wound up with a lot of time on my hands. I picked up a handful of Trek novels from all the different series and read them just for fun. I wasn't terribly impressed. Oh, the quality is good, but they aren't so fun to read anymore. A Trek novel can make a serious point and be about dark subjects, yes. But it should still be fun to read...or at least uplifting. I didn't feel like they were. I also don't think the J.J. Abrams film reboot of TOS is especially good. It's awfully dark, for one thing, and these revenge dramas kind of miss the point of Trek altogether. I complained about all of this to my husband, the Uber Trekkie. He must have gotten tired of hearing it, because he finally said, "If you're so smart, write your own Trek novel!"
> 
> So I thought about it for a while...and I made a list of what, to me, makes a Trek novel good...and I started writing. I goofed around with some other stories first -- To Make an End, Time On My Hands, etc. But "Here I Stand" is really the result of all that thinking. I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, drop me a line. I'd love to hear what you thought.
> 
> Oh, and I still have that list of "what makes a Trek novel." It's kind of a tongue-in-cheek list although a few of the concepts are serious, but here are a few of the things I definitely wanted to include and where they came from:
> 
> 1\. A surreal, almost out-of-body section where you can't quite tell who is speaking. (The Wounded Sky, Diane Duane)  
> 2\. At least one stunning anachronism, something that Our Heroes surely won't still be using in the 24th century. (Several Trek novels and episodes)  
> 3\. The unknown relative of a minor character turns up seeking revenge. (Court Martial, TOS; The Vulcan Academy Murders, Jean Lorrah)  
> 4\. A joke planted in an early chapter that does not pay off for at least four chapters. (ANYTHING by Peter David)  
> 5\. The possibility of redemption for the villain, or at least one of them. (Pretty much any Trek other than Abrams' Trek)  
> 6\. An original character, almost a Mary Sue, who all but takes over the story. (Uhura's Song, Janet Kagan)
> 
> There are lots more, but those were the biggies I didn't want to miss. Did you catch them all? :-)
> 
> Finally, this story was inspired by the VAMB Secret Santa exchange. My request was for a J/C story based on Michael Buble's cover of "I'm Your Man," music and lyrics by Leonard Cohen. It fit perfectly, and was more fun to write to than I care to admit.
> 
> If you're still with me, thanks for reading. And please drop me a comment! I live for comments!  
> Laura
> 
> P.S. Yeah, there will probably be a sequel someday. Not soon...but someday.


End file.
